I love making smoothies without following any specific recipe.
This morn I noticed that our last Banana was on the Brink of Bereavement, so I asked if he would like to go for a final swim with his buddies Pineapple, Strawberry, Spinach, Turmeric, and Cayenne.
“ Yes, let me peel off what I’m wearing and I’ll jump right in!”
Well, I suppose that I am Marveling this morning, but with a side of Moan.
Yesterday morn, instead of attending our beautiful and inclusive Asbury Church here in Savannah, Robert and I played hooky. Since it was an unusually cool reprieve from our stiflingly serious summer heat, I suggested we drive over to Savannah‘s iconic Bonaventure Cemetery and do what we have not been doing much this summer … walk outside.
What a beautiful, old cemetery/park, along a bluff of the tranquil Wilmington River.
We took our time, walking quietly, almost meditatively, under the ancient live oaks and magnolias. A morning breeze (amazingly refreshing for early August!) invited the Spanish Moss to a ceremonial Dance of the Dead above our heads.
About an hour into this Sauntering Sunday Service, I somewhat wearily gazed through the overgrown and dark green “we-bloomed-months-ago” azalea bushes.
And saw it.
“Let’s walk over there, Robert.”
A small mausoleum, circa 1927, darkened and a bit crumbling with age and wear, the small double doors having patinated over the decades into a glorious, deep metallic green.
The Schroder family whispered us closer, even offering me a little sitting of rest (which I desperately needed).
‘Neal, look behind you,” HR quietly instructed.
Someone (who?) had placed a single, long-stemmed, radiantly red rose at the foot of the doors, below the two “S’s.”
(My last name is Saye, Robert’s is Smith, I for some reason thought.)
“Pick it up.”
I obeyed, trying to avoid the thorns.
I have been dealing with some frustrating physical issues (thorns!) lately—causing me to be a bit out of sorts with the world and with life.
73 years come with challenges.
Then again …
And I still crave the rose.
My weekly gratitude journal, of sorts.
1. Our hibiscus FINALLY blooming.
2. This fancy butter at a new breakfast place the other day. (It doesn’t take too much to make me happy.)
3. Robert, sitting outside the new breakfast place, Bread and Butter—inside Auspicious Bakery. With leftovers.
4. Always having enough food to eat. What a blessing.
5. Finding fantastic pimento cheese at a local produce stand.
May you find a Fantastic Something this first weekend in August.
Browsing through the clearance section at Hobby Lobby today, I rsn across this …
“Robert!” I shrieked across several aisles where he was searching for dragonfly figurines in the garden gnome section (Don’t get me started). “Quick! Please! Come take my picture!”
Used to my impromptu requests, HR fairly quickly found me, put down his two garden figurines (which looked more like weird birds than dragonflies to me) and took this photo.
I love the Profound Truth of Twain’s Patriotic Proclamation!
In solidarity with many Americans, I am having a great deal of trouble supporting the current administration’s Dangerous Dismantling of Democracy.
And I wholeheartedly believe that we should and must make our dissatisfaction known.
Walking into our kitchen when we got home, I glanced at the fridge and thought to myself, “Yes, Mark Twain, I know you were being humorous, but you are also so very correct!”
And I make that … Refrigerated Proclamation as a Patriot of my Country, the United States of America.
I’m moaning this Monday over an incredible injustice that happened recently near me here in South Georgia.
The librarian in the middle of the photo below, Lavonnia Moore, was fired from her position at the Pierce County Library.
“Why?” you ask.
Lavonnia oversaw a patron-led display of children’s books with the theme “Color Our World.” One book on display, When Aiden Became a Brother, features a beautifully loving trans young person.
I went to our local library, found the book, sat down with Robert and read it.
A heartfelt rendering of love, care and acceptance.
Here’s a link to an article about the firing injustice:
Add a link to another article about common sense folks who are trying to reverse the decision.
https://share.google/ZQYpEC31wmqtKuA7G
May our artists, poets, librarians, and readers continue to have freedom in these troubled United States.
And that’s my Saturday Evening Post.
My weekly gratitude journal, of sorts.
1. My favorite summer lunch: simple Tomato Sandwich with vine-ripe tomatoes, accompanied by mayo, thinly sliced Vidalia onions, and a sprinkling of fresh thyme, salt and pepper.
Oh my GOODness!
2. Going to Tybee Island Post Theater to see grandson Daniel’s final Savannah play before heading off to musical theatre college in the fall.
Daniel played the part of Jack (as in Jack and the beanstalk) in Into the Woods.
3. I know I say this often, but what a blessing air-conditioning is. I know it’s very hot in many, many places, but here in Savannah the heat is exacerbated by ridiculously thick humidity.
Weekend:
But as Marjorie Taylor Greene says, there’s no climate crisis!
4. The ability to lift my coffee cup up to my mouth each morning. What a blessing!
5. Our overly photographed kitty cat Benny.
May you have an Overpopulation of Good this last weekend in July.
Continue reading “Five Friday Happy Bringers 7/25/25”
A blog category about finding “art” in unexpected places and situations
So Robert and I were driving down the Truman Parkway here in Savannah the other day, minding our own business, when I casually looked out the passenger-side window and saw this.
Well actually, I “saw” nothing at first and started to look away, again casually, when a thunderous shout/scream reverberated through our little vehicle.
“WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT? TAKE A PICTURE—IT’LL LAST LONGER!”
Two things happened next. First, I quickly took another picture.
Second, before I glanced at the second photo, I nervously chuckled in my terror, remembering the famous Pee-wee Herman line.
The Chuckle Changed to Chagrin as I saw the bright, angry lightning pulse through the … the … the creature’s laughing mouth. See it?
“Robert!” I yelled. “Do you see him? We must leave this place! It harbors horror! Drive faster!”
HR took his eyes off the road for a second, long enough to give me a here-we-go-again stare, a stare one might bequeath a pitiful child or, perhaps, Pee Wee Herman.
“He was there. I saw him,” I countered.
But by that time the furtive creature had made his way into the words.
We rode the rest of the way home in silence.
NealEnJoy 