Posted in In Our Own Backyard

September Oaks Revisited

paYfX9ZD5G06pEQy.jpg

Last Saturday I revisited September Oaks Vineyards— a small but incredibly beautiful boutique winery in Ridgeland, SC.  On my first trip to SOV about a year ago, I fell in love with the place–as well as the fun and friendly folks who work there, especially Nikki Davis …

3sPnvsyVhdkdynDh.jpg

Nikki

… a kindred spirit, who at the time of my first trip (and the above pic) worked part-time at September Oaks and taught high school English in Ridgeland.  Thus, we hit it off as fellow English teachers right from the start.  Nikki has since become a faithful blog follower and happiness promoter.

For this second visit, good friends Robert and Edward (such strong, classical names–who names their child “Neal”?  And with an “a”?) accompanied me along lazy U.S. 17 on the forty-five minute trip from Savannah.

The entrance to September Oaks is as beautiful as the place itself.

cKbsKHY6HGqP2V0u.jpg

DTMbWjw8YBWMgwcf.jpg

5HhYxwe3IMosWjyg.jpg

So I motored down the old oak-lined entryway and parked Skedaddler.  (My little car’s name.  What?  You don’t name your vehicles?  Well, why not?  And, what?  You think “motored” sounds a little silly and pretentious?  Well, I would too under normal circumstances, but those ancient oaks and the incredible fall weather made me want to talk British-fancy.)

W1wBxW44PvYihIXA.jpg

PWyDx6LdUVV86uJY.jpg

A special event was going on that day:  A Novel Wine Tasting & Literary Festival, featuring readings and book signings from over two dozen authors.  Such fun!  (More about that later … with a Princess Diana twist.)

KR2UhAn2pRN2JO9q.jpg

M21LZBEdxFqWFXRo.jpg

So we sauntered (there I go again) into the tasting room, paused just inside the door because the place was booming with folks at the counter, and glanced around.  But not for long–because suddenly I heard a hooting and hollering, and saw Nikki rushing toward me and giving me a big hug, as if I were, oh I don’t know, a World Famous Blogger or something!  It was so cool to see her again.

YwSwPRMfKw50DIC9.jpg

We waited our turn for the tasting and then belly-ed up to the beautiful new counter …

bzT0FDr3bi1WrEhi.jpg

… which is made from crushed wine bottles poured in layers to give the appearance of a flowing river amid vineyards.  WHO thinks to do creative stuff like that?!  When I think of crushed bottles, I always remember the time as a kid when I stepped on a broken Coke bottle and had to have a terribly painful and tear-producing tetanus shot.  And let’s be honest, nobody wants to see THAT scene worked into a wine tasting counter!

Anyway, we met our pourer Annette (delightful), who led us through three whites and three reds, from dry to sweet.  We were asked to score each wine on a scale of 1-5 points.  And I probably don’t need to tell you, but wine has alcohol in it!  Edward and Robert were SO much better at the taste scoring than I.  Really.  They swirled the wine around, smelled it deeply, commented on its color, and even had exaggerated expressions on their faces after each tasting which somehow seemed to register their definite approval or casual dismissal.  They even made comments such as, “Oh yes, I would serve this one with fruit and chocolate” or “This white would pair perfectly with fresh, local seafood.”  Me?  What was I doing?  Well, before I answer, look at the picture below.  Although the photo is a bit dark, here I am with Edward and Robert.

7BlBQ9ye75szk3dY.jpg

My biggest concern during our tasting was not wine aroma or pairing possibilities … but that woman in the right edge of the picture.  See her?  You can’t tell from the pic, but she’s really close (too close in my opinion) to the two heavenly smelling featured dishes at the tasting–southern seafood gumbo, and shrimp and grits–and she’s actually somewhat blocking my path to the food.  All through the tasting I kept glancing over my shoulder and worrying about how I could get past her.

Here’s a lighter picture of Robert and Edward.  I took it mainly to get a better perspective on how to get past that lady.

8JcyX6YcnMCIImv6.jpg

I did it!

hEE6N9fjslv8Z3s5.jpg

dllMxh1GBpZRyNYH.jpg

Here’s Nikki with Evie Woods, wife of September Oaks owner Grady Woods:

hdiU9bKe9Jw3bDOc.jpg

And here I am with Evie:

cxqQ6sLRL70cgApJ.jpg

And here’s Evie between two wine bottles:

MWHsVAPzOQaavd2E.jpg

And here’s Evie eating gumbo:

F6ncvoZt1dzzZmly.jpg

And here’s Evie feeding me gumbo:

i6ZQtdvCIwx3mVFv.jpg

4dvMuOgZ4mYk8D0b.jpg

dT9V3Kp3luYBF74n.jpg

qhRLkCKHXRdZBmSW.jpg

After the wine (and food) tasting, Annette asked if we would like a tour of their new barrel room.  Well, who’s gonna turn that down?

jlWkzn7zSVqFjWrh.jpg

0ebAWKLcQgryuZEq.jpg

On your visit (and of course you’re going to visit soon), look closely and you’ll see my shadowy spirit protectively overseeing the oak barrels.

5zhLFURwiL9oyQBU.jpg

Jj2xVkUr7njqjPWr.jpg

Oh my gosh.  Look what showed up next in the warehouse area:

7VRvZYUsIKFudHJf.jpg

A set of drums!  So of course I had to play a while.

swa3bnraLaKPGmzy.jpg

2JkJSk6Lcne0LOEQ.jpg

It would have been so much more enjoyable for myself and the others if I knew how to play drums.  Oh well, we moved on to the big steel barrels.

kWPrYTTkm5P8oJWH.jpg

gnc13jHJ8hl3sIms.jpg

dpg21q6I1aBink9K.jpg

ufKTExIZae99vMhj.jpg

Next, we ventured outside to the vineyard and the literary reading.

IJRt3gYLvDDmsjjp.jpg

yb8ZDeYXX4wEopEH.jpg

F4VjP7QHTLcznHlv.jpg

N3Mn5rNFwnxGzRk3.jpg

Ijxg7UkSQr7WU13Y.jpg

ZOCnVLrMmSfiR3XZ.jpg

asbTUitdmD2oVIDR.jpg

XwUNkZTQBdalZ2px.jpg

Here’s Jack and Robin Firestone, authors of Chasing Diana.  The Firestones were in Paris on the night of Diana’s fatal car crash sixteen years ago … and were in the tunnel … and saw the wreck!  Chasing Diana is their fascinating story.  Here they are reading excerpts from the book.

6dtRSPfoh0KSMxur.jpg

And here I am harassing them.

sQAhUAAeYkmd617Y.jpg

sMHTRr5WREGibf8W.jpg

NnAjykulCUymkJ9i.jpg

4Zg5EDYMyvvjXWWK.jpg

Evie and Grady, SOV’s gracious owners and hosts.

NpFolaZ1nLRPxW2M.jpg

LS3Xa7DfRa1eCB4D.jpg

BvhYyy9WvKsBe9b2.jpg

4GgQgtJyeHWG5zyi.jpg

z6Ua6S5bnFgxo3TQ.jpg

kwHjR1ISN2ZtecNc.jpg

wBxxfqGfpqmoOFNi.jpg

Oa5WWusvVCZ2JDBe.jpg

What a joyful Saturday afternoon.  I hereby declare September Oaks to be the Official Winery of NealEnJoy.com!

A special thanks to Robert Smith for taking most of the pictures in this post.

Read the blog post about my first visit here:  SOV 1.

Posted in Delicious Joy

Tomato Joy

To me, the perfect picture of summer happiness is this …

TJ2
TJ1

… vine-ripened tomatoes.  The color, the smell, the taste and the memories of tomato summers gone by.

The above beauties went into my okra-tomato gumbo.

TJ3

Come on over!

Posted in Five Friday Happy Bringers

Five Friday Happy Bringers (7/19/13)

Here are five things I’m happy about this warm July Friday in South Georgia.

1.  My newfound love of KALE–here sautéed with onions and garlic.

One3

How else can you eat it?  Anybody know?

2.  Six-year-old Grandson Daniel pretending to be part of an Office Depot sales associates meeting yesterday.  (He got bored when his mother and I were doing some shopping.)  (And he has his grandfather’s sense of humor.)  (I thought it was a lot funnier than the Office Depot folks did.)

One2
One4

Right after I took that picture, Daniel asked me if we could go look at speaker eggs.  Huh?  What?  I’d never heard of such a thing.

One4
One5

How does a kid know about such devices?!  When I asked him, he said that EVERYBODY knows about speaker eggs.  I couldn’t decide if I was proud of him or wanted to spank him.  A little while later, when he asked, “Abu, how old will you be when I’m twenty?” I knew I wanted to spank him.

3.  Eating dinner in a balcony.

One1

(At Sage.  Historic District Savannah.)

wpid-Photo-Jul-16-2013-558-PM.jpg

4.  Lying down in your bed at night, putting your head on your pillow, and going to sleep.

5.  Savannah Clouds.

wpid-Photo-Jul-16-2013-256-PM.jpg
wpid-Photo-Jul-16-2013-256-PM.jpg
wpid-Photo-Jul-16-2013-255-PM.jpg
wpid-Photo-Jul-16-2013-255-PM.jpg

*

Look up at the clouds this weekend!

Posted in Delicious Joy

Pot Pie Smiles

One of my earliest joyful memories as a kid finds me meandering off, on warm summer mornings, to the community playground near my house in Cochran Field, near Macon, Georgia.  My best friend Billy and I would play until our mothers brought us chicken pot pies and sweet tea.  Sitting at the weathered, wooden picnic tables, we would  gobble down our pot pies in their little aluminum containers (which we repurposed as treasure collectors).

I have always loved the creamy texture, the flaky crusts, the green peas and carrots, and the homey, Mama-ish warmth of chicken pot pies (or turkey pot pies but NOT cheesy or veggie pot pies).  Of course, they were FROZEN SOLID forty-five minutes before I had all those lovey feelings as a child.  And back then, I didn’t realize that our mothers were watching The Price Is Right or Queen for a Day instead of preparing fresh, homemade lunches for us boys.

So after buying organic vegetables from the local farm-to-table community market (doesn’t that make me sound health-oriented and grounded yet hip and on-target?), I decided to make a homemade chicken pot pie.  HOMEMADE

First of all, do you have ANY clue how long it takes to chop carrots, celery, peppers and potatoes? Boil the corn and then scrape it off the cob? Finely cut the rosemary? Roll out the dough? (Okay, okay, all I did was roll it out of the carton, but still.)

But, oh my goodness, what fun! I may become a famous TV chef or something!

wpid-Photo-Jul-10-2013-706-PM.jpg
wpid-Photo-Jul-10-2013-707-PM.jpg
wpid-Photo-Jul-10-2013-739-PM.jpg
wpid-Photo-Jul-10-2013-738-PM.jpg

Delicious!

potpie1
potpie2
wpid-Photo-Jul-10-2013-825-PM.jpg

Swanson’s may do it faster, but not better!

Posted in Five Friday Happy Bringers

Five Friday Happy Bringers (6/14/13)

I’m Hot but Happy.  98 degrees yesterday here in Savannah (heat index way over 100); 95 today.  Whew.  But unless I’m having heat tremors, here’s what I’m happy about today.

1.  Seeing Love listed as an ingredient on a product label.

Kale4
Kale1

But kale?  KALE??  Seriously?

2.  The surprising, intricate beauty of looking up in Savannah.

Kale3

3.  My good buddy Riboclavin

Kale7

… without a thermometer.  Okay, so maybe he doesn’t seem to be enjoying his food 100%, but still, he’s sitting in the sun, getting a vitamin D boost.

4.  As some of you know, my grandkids call me “Abu” (Cuban/Hispanic shortened version of grandfather) because I thought “grandfather,” etc sounded entirely too paternally old.  Well, six-year-old Daniel and three-year-old Gabriel are WILD over Skylanders.  If you don’t know what I’m talking about, DO NOT try to figure it out.  It’s far too complicated.  But the Skylander franchise is basically taking over the world, of kids.  Anyway, I recently told D and G that a brand new, exciting Skylander figure had just come available on the market, AbuForce!

The three-year old bought it for minute until the six-year-old exclaimed, “No way, Abu.  You’re joking again.”

“I am not,” I lied.  (Why does that trait come so easily to me?)

“Prove it, then,” smart-mouth Daniel challenged.

“Okay I will,” I responded, having no clue how to do so, or even what I meant.

“When?” he asked, a little smart-mouthier.

“Tomorrow,” I easily answered.

Sometimes, angels come your way.  I told my friend Robert about my dilemma.  He laughed and said he might be able to help.  It seems the U.S miltary has a program called Huggs-to-Go, providing dolls for children of service men and women deployed.  The figures have a place at the face for pictures of dad or mom, etc.  Since Robert is retired Army and currently works at Hunter Army Airfield, he somehow managed to get me two of the dolls.

I presented the AbuForce figures to Daniel and Gabriel the next day.  Both, in shock that there really was an AbuForce, melted my heart with their excitement over my little joke.

Kale8
Kale9

And the following day, they brought unparalleled joy to my heart when they both told me that they slept with AbuForce.

5.  Beautiful paths to walk down.

Kale6

Look for some joy this weekend.  You’ll find it.

Posted in In Our Own Backyard

Sunday Afternoon Adventure at Bonaventure: A PhotoJournal

wpid-Photo-Jun-9-2013-122-PM.jpg
wpid-Photo-Jun-9-2013-122-PM.jpg
wpid-Photo-Jun-9-2013-121-PM.jpg

I spent an incredibly warm but wonderfully interesting couple of hours this afternoon at the historically magnificent Bonaventure Cemetery here in my beautiful Savannah.  The day might have been heavy and muggy, but my time there was anything but–cooler than Leopold’s!  It seems that every second Sunday the Bonaventure Historical Society offers free guided tours of the cemetery, so I showed up thirty minutes early with a big water bottle and wearing my thinnest t-shirt.

Before leaving my air conditioning, I checked out the cemetery’s website and learned that …

Though not Savannah’s oldest cemetery, Bonaventure is certainly its most famous and hauntingly beautiful. Quintessentially Southern Gothic, it has captured the imaginations of writers, poets, naturalists, photographers and filmmakers for more than 150 years. Part natural cathedral, part sculptural garden, Bonaventure transcends time.

Military generals, poet Conrad Aiken, Academy Award-winning lyricist Johnny Mercer and Georgia’s first governor Edward Telfair are among those buried at Bonaventure. The approximately 100-acre cemetery is also historically significant as a reflection of changing views on death and dying in the Victorian era. As death became more romanticized and ritualized during this period, cemeteries became lush, beautiful “cities of the dead.”

Another reason behind Bonaventure’s popularity is John Berendt’s book, Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, which featured a cover photo of the now-famous “Bird Girl” statue, formerly located in Bonaventure. The statue has since been moved to the Telfair Museum of Art, founded through the bequest of Mary Telfair, also buried at Bonaventure. 

Our tour guide, the vivacious Ms. Elizabeth Ford …

wpid-Photo-Jun-9-2013-156-PM.jpg
wpid-Photo-Jun-9-2013-154-PM.jpg

… oozed Southern hospitality and a spoke a delicious Southern dialect.  (After the tour, I wanted to go home with her just to hear her talk some more. But I didn’t really know how to ask.)

Elizabeth led us around the hauntingly beautiful Gothic graveyard, along the banks of the lazy Wilmington River, regaling us with stories of the history of the place and showing us gravesites of some of the more prominent folks buried there.  But what I loved most of all was the simple interplay of a deeply Southern voice leading me, slowly, on Sunday afternoon time, through such beauty.

wpid-Photo-Jun-9-2013-221-PM.jpg
wpid-Photo-Jun-9-2013-227-PM.jpg
wpid-Photo-Jun-9-2013-148-PM.jpg
wpid-Photo-Jun-9-2013-121-PM.jpg
wpid-Photo-Jun-9-2013-144-PM.jpg
wpid-Photo-Jun-9-2013-151-PM.jpg
wpid-Photo-Jun-9-2013-151-PM.jpg

(In the above pic, I was aiming for a cemetery facial expression.  Did I get anywhere close?)

wpid-Photo-Jun-9-2013-219-PM.jpg
wpid-Photo-Jun-9-2013-245-PM.jpg
wpid-Photo-Jun-9-2013-243-PM.jpg
wpid-Photo-Jun-9-2013-331-PM.jpg
wpid-Photo-Jun-9-2013-222-PM.jpg

(I wish I had a ponytail like that guy to my left.)

wpid-Photo-Jun-9-2013-223-PM.jpg
wpid-Photo-Jun-9-2013-307-PM.jpg
wpid-Photo-Jun-9-2013-306-PM.jpg
wpid-Photo-Jun-9-2013-306-PM.jpg
wpid-Photo-Jun-9-2013-235-PM.jpg
wpid-Photo-Jun-9-2013-232-PM.jpg
wpid-Photo-Jun-9-2013-232-PM.jpg
wpid-Photo-Jun-9-2013-227-PM.jpg
wpid-Photo-Jun-9-2013-303-PM.jpg
wpid-Photo-Jun-9-2013-246-PM.jpg
wpid-Photo-Jun-9-2013-308-PM.jpg
wpid-Photo-Jun-9-2013-328-PM.jpg
wpid-Photo-Jun-9-2013-338-PM.jpg
wpid-Photo-Jun-9-2013-320-PM.jpg

My parents taught me to love cemeteries.  As friendly places, reservoirs of wonderful memories.  To this day, when I return home to visit them, we usually end up at one of several cemeteries in or around my hometown of Ball Ground, Georgia, where close relatives are buried.  Granny Nix and Veto.  Mama and Papa Saye.  My brother Jimmy who lived only one week.  Old Doc Saye, Ball Ground’s first doctor.    Pulling weeds around a headstone, or straightening flower arrangements, we get caught up in “Remember when’s” and “She was a pistol!” and “I still miss him so much.”  They taught me that I am standing tall today because of all of them who came before.

wpid-Photo-Jun-9-2013-320-PM.jpg

Bonaventure: an afternoon of warm joy.

Bonaventure Cemetery Website

Posted in Life Experiences

10 Reasons I Loved My Little Trip to Visit My Folks

Early yesterday morning I drove up to my north-of-Atlanta hometown of Ball Ground for a short visit with my mom and dad.

dec 772

My dad–Harold or Tub–is 89 (90 in November–come to the party!), and my mom–Geneva–turned 86 in May.  I can’t even begin to tell you how much fun we have when I visit.  They taught me (are still teaching me) to laugh, to enjoy life.

Here are Ten Reasons I loved my little visit.

1.  The early dinner that awaited me upon my 11 am arrival.  Okay, for some of you this will be a bit confusing, but in Ball Ground lunch is called dinner, and dinner is called supper.  (Breakfast is called Hardees.)

Parents1

My favorite meal in the whole wide world consists of 1.) my dad’s creamed yellow corn.  2.) My mom’s fried sweet potatoes.  3.)  A tomato and an onion.

Parents3

The corn is scraped, raw, from the cob and meticulously cooked stove top, stirring constantly to keep it from scorching.  It has the taste of heaven.

Parents2

These sweet potatoes look a little burnt, and they should.  That gives them the carmelized flavor.  Cooked in a large cast iron pan, there’s nothing better.  One stick butter, one cup sugar, sliced sweet potatoes.  Orange joy.

Parents4
Parents5

Oh.  My.  Goodness.  Thank you, Jesus.

2.  The bird clock in my parents’ bathroom.

Parents12

I like it best when the batteries get old, and the hourly bird calls become eerily elongated.

3.  Walking around my folks’ small house (which my dad built BY HAND 34 years ago), looking at the bushes and trees.

Parents6
Parents7
Parents9
Parents8
Parents10

4.  Eating supper at Cracker Barrel.  During the meal a very overweight but jolly lady came over to our table and said to my mom, “Honey, can I give you a hug?  You remind me so much of my little grandma.”  “Why, of course!” Mama replied.

“”Our hugs come in twos,” my dad said with a laugh.  And then was amply rewarded.

I thought about saying, “What about me?  Three’s company.”  But my mouth was full of turnip greens and chow chow.

5.  My mother repeatedly getting her supper choice, “eggs in the basket,” confused with a meal she had about forty years ago at IHOP called “pigs in a blanket.”

Parents13

“Now what do you call this again, Neal?”

From the Cracker Barrel menu:  Eggs in the Basket–Two slices of Sourdough Bread grilled with an egg in the middle of each, cooked to order and served with smoked sausage patties, turkey sausage patties or thick-sliced bacon and your choice of Fried Apples or Hashbrown Casserole.

6.  Still at Cracker Barrel, as my dad stood in line at the counter paying (he INSISTED), another lady just finishing with paying her bill, saying to my dad, “Here, sir, let me pay for part of your meal with the rest of my gift card.  Happy early Father’s Day?”  And my dad, a bit confused at first, trying to PAY her for the gift card, before she finally hugged him and said, “No, no, I want to do this for you for an early Father’s Day present!” (While I stood over to the side between the pulled taffy and the Brad Paisley cd, unsuccessfully holding back laughter.)

As we finally left Cracker Barrel, my mom said to my dad, “You sure are hugging a lot of women today.  I gotta get you out of this place.”

7.  After loading mom’s walker in the trunk, and getting us all in the car, my mom, saying, “Tub, you should have asked that lady what days she usually eats at Cracker Barrel,” sending the three of us into giggles for two red lights, when I said to them, “I wonder if she would like to adopt us as her other family,” (which really wasn’t all that funny, but still got us roaring all over again, in the way you sometimes do when laughter is in the air.)  Pulling off the Ball Ground exit from I-575, my dad said, “Those hugs were a pretty good way to spend an afternoon.”  Because, of course, it was only 5:00 and we had already finished supper.

8.  The feeling, even at my age, of being HOME.

9.  The difficult but important discussion we had on this trip about what my mother would do if my dad died first.

“I just hope to goodness I go before Tub.”

“Now Neever (his version of Geneva), we can’t control those things.”

“What I really wish is that we could just go at the same time,” my mom said with total sincerity.

“Well, that might be possible,” my dad said with a twinkle in his eye, “the way I’ve been driving lately.”  And we all laughed, at something so unfunny.

10.  Experiencing irony as I was leaving Ball Ground the next day, stopping by a convenience store for a Yoo Hoo and a lottery ticket.   The long-time teller printing out my ticket, as she mouthed, “straight to hell,” the lyrics of a country song blaring from the radio, and then handing me my Power Ball and saying, “You have a blessed day, sir!”

A joyful, blessed trip.

Parents11
Posted in The Joy and Wisdom of Children

Oh Possum! (Warning: A Bit Gross)

So Tuesday I picked up grandson Daniel …

Daniel1

…at soccer camp and headed back to his house.  Traversing up the driveway, discussing Skylander Giants, we both saw this at about the same time:

Possum1

A small, dead, open-eyed possum in the neatly manicured front lawn.  “Look, Abu!  A big rat!” Daniel yelled, as he excitedly unbuckled his seat belt, careening toward the thing.

“I think it’s a possum, Daniel, and I also think he’s dead.”  (WHY do I use verbs like “think” in times like this?  The possum was dead as a doornail with bugs swarming around its head.)

“That means he’s not breathing,” Daniel explained to me.

“Why don’t you go in the house and cool off, while I get rid of our friend?”

“NO!” Daniel screamed.  “We have to show it to Mommy!”

“Well, he can stay here for a few minutes.”  (Like the possum was going somewhere.)

At about that time, Olivia and Larkin, the cute twins from next door, came running into the driveway, straight from a pool party.  And of course, Daniel had to show them …

Possum2

… explaining that the “rat, I mean possum, was dead and couldn’t move, so don’t touch it till Mommy comes home because we are going to show it to her.”

Possum3

Her expression says it all.

Expression1

(Touch it?!)

Posted in Five Friday Happy Bringers

Five Friday Happy Bringers (5/17/13)

Happy happy, bo-bappy.  Banana fanna, fo fappy. Fe fi mo mappy.  Happy!   (Did I do that right?  I’ve spent about 45 minutes, trying it out with every relative’s name I can think of.  I keep messing up.)

Friday.  Happy  Here’s Five:

1.  A little bundle of joy.

Bundle1

(Grandtwin Madison)

2.  This funny ad about rum.

*

“When you hurry through life, you just get to the end faster.”

3.  Corn bread.  Here’s some I made to go with cabbage and sausage the other night.

Bundle6

4.  This great quote about talking your JOY.

Bundle3

5.  Grandtwin Matthew feeding Tyler.

Bundle2

May your weekend overflow with joy talk and joy walk.