Did I Mention I Love Bluegrass?

Did I mention I love Bluegrass? I think I did and am probably repeating myself, but at my age, I can do that.

On my second day in my new home, I left off unpacking and arranging to attend a Cajun Cookout at the Blue Ridge Pavilion. The Demijohn Varmints provided the entertainment, and while one young man looked as though he’d been in a  losing battle with rabid varmint, their music was exciting—stimulating enough to get these feet and legs moving, tapping, and dancing. My second time in two months on a dance floor. This move south has really energized me.

The cookout was sponsored by the Democratic Party of Fannin County, GA, but there was no political message other than we can all play together—and we did. Not sure if there were any Republicans there, but one man did don a Confederate flag shirt for the occasion. He was fairly quiet, kept to himself, and leered over his plate, as if those damn Dems would steal it. We let him enjoy it though.

Everyone enjoyed the food and there was a lot of it. Cajun okra and tomatoes, Cajun carrot salad, Jambalaya, Cajun cornbread with a spicy kick, Cajun peas and onion with peach and blueberry cobblers for dessert. Oh, there were burgers and hot dogs for those who didn’t particularly care for a hot Cajun boost to the metabolism, but most took the plunge and blotted their brow while doing so.

I took my second drive in the dark on the mountain roads back to my country home, and it felt terrific. I have to remember to turn on the porch light though, because when the sun sets, it’s blackness all around. Thank goodness I’m a smoker because I had to use the lighter to fit the key in the door lock. I haven’t taken to leaving my door unlocked yet. That city habit is gonna die hard.

Since neither paper showed up to cover the event, I wrote up a little blurb for both accompanied with the pictures. Who knows, maybe I can pick up a little gig writing on spec for events such as these—Democratic events—that no one seems to care about. If not, that’s okay also. The goal is to write as much as possible be it poetry, fiction, or articles, and at some point to be so fitted in the groove that I will return to that novel. Right now, I’m frolicking in the inspiration sparked by Cajun food and Bluegrass. Did I mention I love Bluegrass? Good, ‘coz tonight is Pickin’ in the Park down around the corner, and I’ll be there.

Pickin' Home

Pickin’in the park! Many people who think they know me will be surprised that I was even interested, let alone that I thoroughly enjoyed it and almost danced. It’s an every Thursday thing at Horseshoe Bend Park in McCaysville, and I plan to make it a weekly event. Right alongside the Toccoa River where people paddle or tube by, fishermen wade in and sling fly poles for river trout and people of all ages grill or just picnic while the pickers pick.

I have to admit I have always loved Bluegrass and I even sang along to the old time gospel tunes. Then I walked down to the next pavilion and even more musicians were jammin’ away with real foot-stompin’ music. I couldn’t keep my feet still and my hands clapped happily until one older gentleman motioned me up several times.

            “Oh, no. I don’t know how.”

            “She’ll teach ya,” he responded, pointing to his wife.

Soon, very soon, I will learn mountain dancing.

Many of you have followed my travels and my search for a home. Many have seen the photo of the farm I was looking at and it IS lovely, however it is a rental. Most importantly, it doesn’t have a bathtub. This may be a small thing to some, but it was the deal breaker for me. Since it was a rental, I couldn’t do any modifications, so I would be living for years without a tub. Can’t do it.

I have found a home though. And it will be MINE. It’s obviously smaller than what I’ve been looking at but I can add because it’s MINE. Plan to add onto the porch so that it wraps around and add a fireplace and another room. All in good time, my pretty, all in good time—coz’ it’s MINE. It’s a cute little 2 bedroom on ¾ acres—which I’ve found is plenty—where I can have my chickens, a cow, and a nice size garden.

It’s one of six homes on a dead-end gravel road. Its several hundred wooded acres across the gravel road and wooded acres behind. One way in and one way out. Completely secluded BUT not isolated. This was quickly becoming a concern as I looked at houses on the side of mountains, in the middle of forests, without people for miles. What if something happens? Additionally, neighbors, across a fence are not a bad thing.

                        6.24.11 (Middle Ground)

Sharing secrets over the picket fence

Neighbors become closer

Choosing to embrace differences

Sharing memories, encouraging futures 

~Jules Paige on Writing Our Way Home

So, the move date is July 8. Heading back to Chicago, load up my storage unit, pickup my cats from my daughter’s, and heading south for good. It’s been destined. Everything just fell into place in its proper timing; I just moved over and let it happen.

Once it’s all settled, I can then check with the Blue Ridge Arts Association about writing workshops, check with FLAGG for the same, get knee deep involved with the community gardening organization Feed Fannin, and the Blue Ridge Humane Society. Number one priority is to sit on that porch and write, write, write. The dream is unfolding now that I’ve chased it down!! 

Another really cool thing about the location of this house is that it is right around the corner from all the stuff I started this post with. Actually, a 5 minute drive to go pickin', tubin' and fishin'.