A Saturday Road Trip


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Hwy 17, the road to all places Coastal South Carolina


It’s a Lucky day and not just because it’s St. Patrick’s Day. I woke up a little giddy with anticipation for all this Saturday holds.  Having completed my report cards and put on the class play, this weekend is a rare school task-free weekend and I have big plans.

It’s a lovely day for a drive up the coast to Pawley’s Island where I’m dropping off signed books for the bookstore My Sister’s Books. I have done an author event at their store before and I can’t wait to browse their shelves. They have a combination of new and used books and I fully expect to find a treasure or two.

Yes, I could have shipped the signed books to them, but then I couldn’t enjoy the browse. Plus, I have set up a meeting with a bookstore owner in Georgetown and I hope that will result in a possible signing event and/or my books being present on their shelves. Wish me luck, although I feel the auspices of the day will carry it. At the very least I’ll get to browse in a new-to-me bookstore and that will be worth the stop in and of itself. I should also get to poke around some other shops between Pawley’s and Charleston as I work my way home.

How will this book lover cap off this lovely day? An oyster roast with friends of course! I already have my chili contribution marinating in its seasonings. I have my gloves and shucker ready on the counter. I can almost taste the salty sea as I think about it.

Anticipation for the day is a good thing. Everything on my agenda today I am genuinely looking forward to. I hope it plays out as idyllic as it does in my mind. Even if there are a few monkey wrenches thrown in I’ll be wear’n my green and channeling the ancient Irish blood that courses through my vein. I have to believe that the wind will be at my back and the road will rise up to meet me.

Have a happy St. Patrick’s Day and may your Saturday be filled with moments that make you smile.


Lowcountry Zen



Over the marsh and the Wando River.

I have the enviable task of helping my parent’s in their house hunt and I went with their realtor to view a few properties this week, and even though this particular house was not the right fit the view was definitely something I would love to come home to.

Last year and this year so far seem so chaotic and fast on every level. I have said before the turmoil in the world and our nation have left me feeling anxious and a news-cycle for just a day or two seems like it surely covered at least a weeks worth of events. Even daily life between my teaching life, my writing life, my home life and social life are overwhelming me and I don’t feel I have a firm grasp or that I’m caught up in any area.

When I see a view like the one above it automatically catches my breath, slows my heart rate and commands me to pause, slow down and regroup.  Makes me wonder is it too late for me to move back in with my parents? A view like this is what they will end up with and I plan on spending a lot of time with their view. . .  I mean them.

I don’t think you need a water view to achieve the zen, a walk in a park, a garden, the beach or even a mountain can get us away from twenty-four-hour connectedness and screens. We have to disconnect to reconnect and refresh.

If you come home to a view each day, I imagine it’s a little easier to practice that on a daily basis. The rest of us might need to take a short drive to a beach or a park or take a stroll each day around our back gardens, assuming part of your stress is not the various yardwork chores you’re behind on.

I think I am beginning to understand the appeal of meditation, although I’m lousy at sitting still and clearing my mind sitting in a room. Give me a Lowcountry view like above and my soul makes it easy to sit still and meditate on the spectacular views all around in this magical place I get to call home.

I know we are over half way through February, but I think I can add one more thing to my New Year’s goal list: Stop each day, find a place in nature to disconnect and reach a few moments of zen.



The Doorway to Spring



My thrifty and crafty new entry


The groundhog saw his shadow, but I don’t think the Kiawah Island alligator Charles Ray did. Apparently, he has been predicting local spring since 1932. I just learned this little fact on the local news. How did I not know this colorful bit of local lore? Here in the South Carolina Lowcountry, I am certainly hopeful for early spring, after all, some of my daffodils are on the verge of unfurling their sunshine blooms.

Winter is not my favorite season, although I try to appreciate the gifts it gives just like every other season. As soon as Christmas is over I begin to dream of warmer days, more hours of daylight and mother nature putting on her fashion show.

Recently I fell in love with a wreath in a catalog with beautiful greenery and yellow silk tulips, it was selling for $139 and I almost gave into the temptation. In the end, I couldn’t justify the splurge when I had some rotting fence boards to replace and other needs to be tended to.

This morning I looked at my beautiful blue door and the now fading Christmas wreath that was still in place. To clarify, my holiday wreath was adorned with seashells and a cream ribbon so it didn’t scream Christmas, but the live greenery was beginning to brown. It was time for it to come down.

Still craving a cheerful yellow wreath to grace the door, I ventured to the craft store and $18 later I returned with a grapevine wreath and several stems of yellow flowers with greenery and a spool of roping.

It is not as large and lush as the wreath from the catalog and I could not find yellow tulips like the catalog wreath, but I found decent looking and feeling blooms that created the effect I was hoping to. So it is an inspired creation, a low-budget version of a high-budget item. Plus, I enjoyed a small project to exercise my creativity in a form other than words.

Now my door makes me smile again and I hope it says to the world, “Welcome Spring!” Even if real Spring is still a few weeks away I’m pretty sure here in South Carolina we will have it before our friends to the North. Hang in there Northern friends and family, the snowdrops and crocuses will be there before you know it!

A Southern Winter Wonderland



Magnolia in the backyard showered by snow

January 3rd brought magic to the South. It began as a freezing rain and icicles formed on branches and patio furniture, then big fluffy flakes floated and blew down not just a dusting but slightly over five inches and our world became white and sparkly. My joy in this event took me by surprise, I don’t care for weather below the 50’s in the winter and long for the warm 80’s and 90’s of summer as a rule. But the collective wonder of it all on the local news and social media swept me up in the excitement.

The local channels covered it like a hurricane with constant on-air coverage, and the businesses and roads shut down. Children and adults alike rushed to don winter garb, some make-shift as we don’t generally have such items beyond a coat in our wardrobe. I myself wore my rain boots. The dogs bounced around like puppies regardless of age and so did the humans.

Neighbors emerged to take pictures and marvel. This is about a once a decade or more event. We greeted it with glee, it meant snow days from school and work. Unlike the northern tier of our country, we can celebrate snow like children because it is so rare. I freely admit that if I had to deal with it every season on a regular basis it would make me grumble and complain, but once in a decade I can truly savor and enjoy.  I have been here for 31 years and have only experienced snow like this twice before, with a few minor dustings not even lasting a day a few times as well. Also, three ice storms that closed thing down, each winter scenario averaging once a decade for my Lowcountry life,  making each one a marvel and a magical experience, secure in the knowledge it won’t last. We will be back in flip flops in just a few days.


I’m not especially superstitious but I can’t help but feel this is a good omen for 2018. I felt that way about the beginning of the school year coinciding with the total solar eclipse. A rare event can’t help but seem magical and mysterious. It fills you with joy and hope and wanting to soak it in for all the good luck it might have to offer.

The snow is still solidly here and will not melt much today. I’m going to venture out to shovel the driveway to hopefully prevent the re-freeze sheet of ice and I just might have to make a snow angel for nostalgia’s sake. I have my wooden flexible flyer with metal runners in my garage (It hangs on the wall as decor), if we only had a hill nearby I would take it for a spin.

In a few days time, this will melt away and we will enjoy being outside sans jackets again. But today I’m going to play in this winter wonderland and soak in the magic of the moment.

An Endless Love Affair



Looking from Rockville over to Seabrook


You would think after thirty-one years here in the South Carolina Lowcountry I would take foregranted my surroundings. When you tend to live somewhere it is typical to ignore the area offerings such as museums unless you have company. I see vistas of marsh, river, and ocean on a daily basis and I adore those views, they instantly calm me and make me thankful for getting to live in this beautiful place.

This past weekend I had the opportunity to ride with friends out to a house in Rockville, which is still a pristine village much like it was back in the 1800’s when this particular house was built. I could easily imagine a life here away from traffic and our crazy suburban sprawl. If only I was retired and didn’t have to think about the practical things such as commuting to work!

The house built in 1829 was loaded with character and a gem by itself, but it was the water views that took my breath away. I never tire of looking across the water and marsh. I often wonder if I had this view from my back porch, would I be too distracted to write or would I just find my creative well constantly replenished?

I’m not sure but I would be more than willing to find out. I think I might have to write a book where a lucky character will get to live in this charming house with this magical view and I can live vicariously through them.

I truly hope that when I’m one-hundred and eight (the age I am planning on living to) my love affair with the South Carolina Lowcountry will still burn with the same intensity it does today. Considering that fire has been steady for thirty-one years I can’t imagine it will ever burn out.

Lessons From the Tide



Low tide


I was driving down Longpoint Road today which crosses the marsh in several spots. It was high tide and the water encroached on the road causing the cars to spray water up onto each other and it got me thinking how the ebb and flow of the tide is much like the ebb and flow of time, history, and our personal lives.

When the tide is high we float and flow, think the roaring 20’s, record stock markets and reaching pinnacles in our careers. Those moments are great but hold on to your hat, the tide will turn and ebb, taking you down to the mud and reveal what lies beneath, think The Depression, the recession and days where nothing seems to go right.

While we may crave the high tide moments, I think we grow more from the low tide moments. When we are down to the mud, we can see what’s buried there with us. We see what needs to be fixed or addressed, but we also find nuggets of wisdom and treasures to carry with us as we rise again, think oysters and artifacts.

The biggest takeaway for me from this musing on the tide was it will always turn around. Enjoy the high points while they last, but don’t expect life to stay there. Learn all you can during the low points and know that if you hang on things will head back up.

I love this South Carolina Lowcountry life, I find inspiration every day from this beautiful place. At the moment I think I’m somewhere between low and high tide, I have learned I can’t turn it until it’s good and ready, but I can roll along with it and make the best of whatever stage it has me in.

Awaiting Irma’s Impact



water supply including the fur babies

School has been canceled and I gratefully slept in this morning. For over a week Irma has been clamoring for my attention and I began by evaluating what I had in my hurricane supply kit and what needed to be replaced or supplemented. As she maintained her ferocity I made contact with my go to place in the upstate to make sure the fur babies and I would be welcome. I made a list of the things I would need to pack to take with and what I would need to to do in the house and yard, some of which is on the agenda today,

On Social media, people are already grumbling about the fact we didn’t have school today, and while I might have preferred working a least a half day today so it would be one less day to make up, I again am grateful for the time to secure the classroom yesterday afternoon and have a two day window to take care of the house, yard and evacuate if needed.

We are still twenty-four to thirty-six hours for knowing the actual impacts to expect, but the track last night and this morning indicate my evacuation place will get the same or possibly more impacts than the lowcountry. So I will press on with prep and be glad to be busy and not glued to the TV for every minor shift in track and wind. A decision to leave will have to be made by Sunday morning, regardless the house and yard will need to be prepared.

Having lived in the lowcountry for thirty-one years I am now a hurricane veteran, my first being the devastating Hugo in 1989. I was a victim of the evacuation debacle of Floyd, had a crazy diverted route home from Mathew and have hunkered down at home for others. So I know it is better to be over-prepared and overly cautious with things like canceling school. Storms will do what they do, no matter what science tells meteorologists with all their models. A last minute jog either direction or a sudden slowing down or speeding up is always a possibility and can drastically change the circumstances for impact.

By Tuesday the tale of Irma in the lowcountry will be written and we will know what the impact is. Somehow I don’t believe it will be as life altering as Hugo. Those of us who lived here for Hugo describe life in terms of before and after Hugo, much like the country does for 9/11. The images of trees snapped like toothpicks, the crumpled metal roof of the house I lived in balled up like a tissue tossed on the street, the water mark on the wall about as tall as me and the coating of pluff mud on most of my belongings are still as vivid today as twenty-eight years ago. I imagine Texas will view life that way with Harvey being the divide in time.

Hugo taught me one thing that has stayed with me, things are just things. If I have my family, including the fur babies and we are safe and healthy, then I have everything I need. Houses and stuff can be replaced, pictures are a sad loss, but the losing of them doesn’t erase memories. So if you are in the path of Irma it may impact your life with inconveniences and problems but as long as you have your life and those of your loved ones, you are blessed beyond measure.



Letters Impactful as Words



Just a few of my monogrammed items

A very funny post has been circulating among my friends and I am sure a much wider audience poking a little fun at the Southern girl’s penchant for monogramming. It has a video of a very romantic proposal and the woman begins to imagine what her new monogram will look like, only to realize it will, unfortunately, spell out the word DIE.  So naturally, the bride to be, declines and runs for the hills.

I would never walk away from true love over a monogram, but I might decide to become a singular letter girl. This entertaining post got me thinking about monograms and letters in general and how they can be powerful even when they don’t actually spell a word.

For example, with a last name that begins with A, I quickly realized in school I was bound to be first on the class list most years. I always felt sorry for the Q-Z crowd. As the shortie kid who was always last in the class picture line-up, it was nice to know I would be first in some things.

License plates are another place those three ubiquitous letters that some computer randomly selects can be a happy accident or an unfortunate one. One set of plates I had here in South Carolina began with the letters BTK. During that time the news about the BTK killer our in the Midwest was all over the news and it really bothered me to have those letters on the back of my car. My next set was not much better, DRK. Really!? I am not a negative or sinister person. It’s almost enough to make a girl open up her monogrammed wallet for vanity plates.

Acronyms for organizations or programs can also be unfortunate. In my primary field of education, this happens all the time.  Right now we have a data reporting requirement called our SLO’s (we say SLOW) It is a time-consuming data entry process done three times a year. We also had a student assessment program a while back called, SCRAPI (we called it scrappy and the trainer was not amused).  There are some good ones out there, GRITS, Girls raised in the South for example.

I have written several posts over the years about monograms and I am unashamed of my enjoyment in them. Somehow a monogram elevates an object, plus it makes it easy to keep track of your stuff. So poke all the fun you want, I will be happy to respond on my engraved note cards.


Embracing The Coyote



The patch covering up my loggerhead turtles on my student seat sacks for our new school. The Design is by Melissa Gaddy, very talented owner of Marsh Grass Monogramming.


Almost 13 years ago, my school was over crowded and we split by grades, K-2 moving into our own school with the cute mascot of Loggerhead turtle. Living in the South Carolina Lowcountry with many of our communities championing the sea turtles, it was a natural fit and I loved it.

Presently these two split schools have become overcrowded again, a consequence of living in paradise and having the likes of Conde Nast declare you the top destination. So the new split brings prek-5 back under one roof in the new Carolina Park Elementary and our new mascot is the Coyote.

It was bittersweet to leave the school I thought I was going to retire from. I miss those left behind, but so grateful for the ones taking the journey with me. I miss the idea of a school focused on the primary grades, but love that I will see former students grow and will have older kids to do collaborative projects with for my students.

One thing I have been resisting is the idea of a Coyote over a turtle. But when the color scheme of blue, green and gray was introduced and the very talented Melissa Gaddy of Marsh Grass Monogramming made the coyote more cute than fierce, I began to warm to the idea.

Yesterday I got to take a tour of the new building with fellow faculty and staff. I was blown away by the natural light and the finishes. I am in love with the storage that is built into the rooms. Here I am a 25 year veteran of teaching and I feel giddy like a new teacher.

I have approximately 4 to 6 years to cap off my educational career before I turn to writing full-time. I am truly thrilled to have such a beautiful place to pass those years. While I will always be more of a fan of the beach and native creatures that make the Lowcountry their habitat. I might just find I enjoy howling at that palmetto moon too.

A Jewel In a City of Treasures


C of C

A view of Randolph Hall under the Oaks by the Cistern

Almost thirty-one years ago my parents dropped me off to begin my college adventure on this beautiful and historic campus. The College of Charleston just received the distinction of the prettiest college campus, but the truth is the grounds and buildings have been picturesque for decades.

It was the seductive beauty of brick pathways, gaslight lamps, long reaching oaks with swaying Spanish moss and a collection of flowering and evergreen specimens that was too intoxicating for me to resist. I felt instantly as if I knew it, somehow it was a place I could call home.

The College campus feels more like a park in the heart of the city. I can’t even imagine the hours the horticultural team logs to keep it shining in all seasons. There are many places to stop and sit and soak in the scenery. The ironwork gates around the campus are works of art and the stately Randolph Hall reminds the visitor that the College history is woven into the history of the city and this nation.

More important than all this visual beauty is the beautiful soul this institution has. As a student, I felt connected to my fellow students, professors, and even the administration. Thirty years ago, the College was about half the population it is today, but I hope the current students feel they are part of a family like I did. Some of my best friends have come from those years.

I love learning and the College was the ideal environment to soak it in. With only one exception in my four-year degree and then a year and a half spent getting my masters, my professors were passionate about their subjects and really cared about my success in learning the material.

So yes the College of Charleston is easily the prettiest college campus but what makes it truly beautiful is the people and the commitment to education that focuses in on the value of learning and produces graduates that have the critical thinking skills to be successful in whatever field they choose.