Pinking up the Hood

It’s time for another seasonal change in the neighborhood that I call home. In February, I yakked all about the snow covered trees. One month later, those same trees were a beautiful explosion of white pear blossoms. I yakked all about it HERE.

Now, our street might be stunning during pear blossom season, but, it's actually during  this season that I love our street the most. And it's all because of the pink polka dots which begin to pop up under the green canopy row.

Can you see them?  

Our carefully planned neighborhood has only three streets, and they're all named to go with with a Georgian theme. We have streets name after the dogwood  and the magnolia and the peach tree.(well, of course!)

I think the names are perfectly lovely... .except for the fact that there are very few dogwoods, even fewer magnolias, and every street is lined, not with peach trees but with Bradford pears.

So really, shouldn't my street be called Pear Tree Lane instead? Yes, it should.

During this summer season, I might also suggest Crepe Mrytle Way. I say this  because of the fuchsia crepe myrtles which also line our street.  I guess crepe myrtles weren't Georgian enough for  the developer either. (Or maybe he had a creepy old Aunt Mrytle like I did who kind of ruined the name for him, too.)

At any rate, it is the crepe myrtle which defnes our streets during these hot summer months and adds a splash of fuchsia to my daily walk.  I've said before that pink is my favorite color. However, it's not any old pink. I'm not really a pastel kind of girl. I'm fuchsia. I love it and wanted to share just a few pink sights from my walk with you.    

I didn't notice that creepy little spider when I shot this this morning.

A few mrytles are a lighter shade

Not quite as pretty, in my opinion

I'll end my tour of the pink blossom trail with this  pink show off here.

Not a  myrtle, but pink nonetheless.

She makes up for being pastel with her enormous blossoms.

The husband loves her.

I kind of think she looks like a petunia on steroids.

But just in case I want to buy one for my own lawn, does anyone know what this is?

Mr. Right

Miss Whimsy had her college orientation this weekend. Her nervousness is slowly being replaced by excitement about The Great College Adventure. She's excited about new friends, new adventures, a new room to decorate (oh, I'll yak allll about that)... the whole collegiate shebang.

Her father reminds her to be excited about

all that new learning and life preparation

in the College of Engineering.

Her mother reminds her about

all those potential son-in-law candidates

in the College of Engineering.

Her father reminds her to pay no attention to the wokking in her left ear...

I love to tease that we've already found Mr. Right on the Mercer University Campus.

Here he is, Jesse Mercer.

I love this statue which sits in a circle surrounded by some of his quotations. I think I would have liked Old Jesse. He and I speak the same language. He was passionate about learning, particularly as it pertained to the Word and knowledge of those in Christian service.

Every time I visit, I snap a few shots of him and his words.

 Like this  

And this

And  this one

And this

Amen!

So many others too, but of all Jessie's quotes, there is one that is my favorite. I've been told it's the most commonly shot photo on the Mercer University campus.

Mercerian readers are already grinning...

Here it is...

And, Jesse, I intend to take you at your words

come September...

****

Unwrapping this today at Chatting at the Sky. Come unwrap some other small things with me.

A Tagalong Tale

For the first time in years, I hitched a ride with the husband for his business travel this week. We decided on the great tagalong adventure because our anniversary was smack in the middle of his business week, and we wanted to enjoy an anniversary dinner on the actual date.

For two very wonderful reasons, we haven’t traveled alone on business in 21 years. It’s fun, although staying business style isn’t exactly  The Ballastone Inn.

No frills. We were in plain old room number 302. In my head, I called it The Cherry Blossom Room instead.  

But even in business class hotels, there are things that I really like. I thought they deserved a little yakabout all their own. Like the obvious:

I like maid service.
I like having a workout room outside my door.
I like those peekaboo shower curtains,

 Obviously inspired by the movie Psycho.

And breakfast. Oh, sure, it’s not presented with silver and linen outside by a trickling fountain, but it’s still nice to have a continental breakfast spread out for you and self- percolating coffee pots in the lobby. (Yes… they have coffee pots in the room, but there is nothing adventurous about brewing your own coffee.  And there is nothing adventurous about styrofoam either. That's why I always pack my own cup.)

I like the way business hotels fold their towels around their toiletries.

How cute is that?

Just folded with a little pocket

Apparently, I need to get out more

since I felt the need to photograph this...

I've always thought it would be pretty with some homemade soaps or lotions. I once tried to replicate it at home. The Traveling Man had an uncharacteristic opinion and nixed it. For some oddball reason, he didn’t want his home to resemble a hotel.

However, can I share just one thing that I do NOT like?

Now, I don’t mind  it that they no longer change sheets in most hotels if you’re staying more than one night. After all, I don’t change my own bed sheets every day, and I like to be a good steward of God’s creation too.

But…

I do mind that they always claim a singular environmental reason.

I realize that I’m more cynical than most, but I just feel that a little honesty would be refreshing once in a while. While that CEO might possibly be concerned about the flow of detergent into the environment, I can’t help but wonder if maybe….. just maybe… it might be a bit about the bottom line as well.

I’d like to see a sign like this once in a while:

Costs are up and travel is down.

Therefore, we will no longer be changing your sheets every day.

Simple and to the point.

Refreshing honesty.

The Hilton Garden Inn where we stayed recently is very environmentally conscious. They not only give you the little bed sheet notice, they hang this little sign in the bathroom as well.

You can’t read it, but it is a request for you to use the same towels for the duration of your stay. Just drape them over the shower rod, they say…

Strictly for the environment, of course.

How about this one instead?

We can’t give our CEO his $10,000,000.00 bonus

if YOU insist on clean towels every day, people. 

So far, we still have this little fellow hanging on the doors for maid service.

However, at the rate things are going, I highly expect the wording to be changed to something like this:

In an effort to increase social consciousness,

the Hilton Garden Inn requests all patrons 

make their own beds and tidy their own rooms.

 Your mothers  parents  nurture persons

should have taught you this,

but since they didn’t,

we’re doing our part to help.

Vacuums are available in the house keeper's lounge on the third floor
for a minimal fee.

However, in our ongoing efforts to reduce energy consumption,

we request that you create little whisk brooms and dust pans with your hands instead.

Strictly for the common good.
Well, of course.

Oh they say when you marry in June...

... You're a bride, all your life

And the bridegroom who marries in June

Gets a sweetheart for a wife

Or so the song goes from my all time favorite movie,
Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.

I know it's a favorite of many readers here too.

I'm posting this in advance of our

26th  wedding anniversary tomorrow.

                                  
We were married at 11:00 in the morning, and after a very hot reception which I barely remember, we spent our first night as Mr.& Mrs. at a little bed and breakfast in (well, of course! ) historic Savannah.

The Ballastone Inn is just my cup of tea.

Ivy covered steps lead to the formal lobby.

Breakfast is served either in the room, in one of the antique filled parlors,

or if you choose as we did,

in the little courtyard by a trickling fountain.

I snapped this picture for you last Saturday,

crouching down in the bushes with the shiny red Kodak.


The Ballastone Inn doesn't have room numbers. Instead, it has little brass plates with whimsical room names like Palmetto Fan and The Tea Olive. Our room was called Chausable. No one was able to tell us the significance of the name. I googled it once, and the closest thing that I found was "chasuable", which is part of a priest's garment. I like to think it's a regal family name instead.


We returned to the Ballastone Inn on our 10th anniversary and last year on our 25th. On the 10th, we requested our Chausable, but new owners had changed some room names, and apparently, it didn't make the cut.

The husband chose Scarlett's Retreat instead.

 (This picture is from their website.)

While we were there, he asked about the discarded brass name plates, hoping to get our hands on a little keepsake. No one knew what had become of them.

Not long after that, we moved into our current home.

A friend had heard the story and gave us the perfect gift as a housewarming.

A simple brass plate for our bedroom door.

This nondescript little trinket is likely overlooked by most visitors to our home,
 but to us it's a gift that we unwrap every time we cross the threshold.
It's a simple reminder
 that whether we're 22 or 52,
we're still that same Mr.& Mrs.,
and every room that we share
 is our Chausable.

I'm sharing this tonight on Tuesday's Unwrapped  at that wonderful blog called Chatting at the Sky.   And as a special treat for all the brides out there, just clickity click these little wedding cakes from the recent wedding of a very special new June bride...

More Adventures in Savannah: The Legends

On my last post, I was asked a few questions about Savannah. I'll try to answer them here. One question was how Savannah compared to Charleston.


Well, I love them both, and I highly recommend a visit to each, especially when kids are old enough to enjoy the history. They are similar, true, but they are not really identical.

I guess I would sum up the difference this way:

Charleston is a city with great character.

Savannah, on the other hand, is a city with great characters.

Savannah is full of legends, and it gets a new legend with each generation.

Spanish moss covered live oak trees line just about every street in the Old Savannah, whether residential, commercial, or historic. I’ve enjoyed just about every version of the Savannah tour, and the legends of the mossy stuff vary about as much as the modes of tourist transport. Basically, every legend includes an Indian maiden (It’s always a maiden in a legend, never just a girl…), a suitor, and an unfortunate hair snagging incident.

In truth? It’s just an hairy distant cousin to the pineapple which may or may not be infested with red bugs depending on whom you ask. I personally wouldn’t recommend eating it or sleeping on it, but that’s just me…

The Waving Girl

Florence Martus was the unmarried sister to the lighthouse keeper on a nearby Island who waved to greet every ship, every day, for 44 years. During the day, she waved a white cloth. At night, she waved a lantern.

Legend says that she was waiting for her long lost love, a sailor who never returned from sea.
However, there has never been any evidence to support that. Personally, I wonder if she might have just been a little odd and in need of a hobby. Today, she would probably blog all about it.

Tomo- Chi-Chi’s Grave

If you believe the 4,789 Savannah ghost stories, you will not want to visit Wright Square at night. It's the grave site of Tomo-Chi-Chi, a Yamacraw chief critical to the settlement of Savannah. Now, that monument behind the marker is not his grave site.

It's really this big rock.  Legend says that if you run around his grave three times and ask, “Tomo-Chi-Chi, what’s for supper?” he will appear with the answer. I once took a group of 6th graders on the Savannah tour who insisted on trying to conjure up the hungry native. I have no idea whether he appeared or not. My eyes were closed.

The Olde Pink House

This is an absolutely lovely old home which is now a wonderful restaurant. The husband and I went there once on an anniversary. The thing that I did NOT like about it is that the restrooms are located downstairs in the historic creepy old tavern. During dinner, I ventured down there out of necessity, but could not turn the knob on the ladies’ room door.

So I waited…

and waited… and waited.

Finally, I knocked on the door, but no one answered.

Years later, I heard the legend of the Olde Pink House. According to legend, it is inhabited by a mischievous ghostie whose favorite haunt is that very ladies' room. Apparently, women claim to feel someone touching their hair and blowing in their ears. Upon trying to leave, they find themselves locked by a knob that will not turn.

Sooo....I might possibly be the only woman in history to be rejected by a dirty old ghost.

There are so many more, but this post is getting long. However, I was asked about this one:

Legend says that this place is inhabited by a friendly silver-haired character.  Apparently, you'll know her when you see her. She cackles… and tosses butter willy nilly into every pot.

Personally, I think that last one is bit far fetched, but stranger things have happened in Savannah...

Adventures in Savannah

This morning, a friend asked me to drive with her to Savannah and wait while she completed a four hour exam for school. I was more than happy to do it, not only because she’s a friend, but also because I love any opportunity to spend time in one of the most beautiful cities in America.

I dropped her off at 7:30 and wondered for only a few minutes what I was going to do with my time so early in the day.  I got a cup of coffee…venti, of course, and I headed for a leisurely stroll around the water front before the Savannah heat and crowds made it a less pleasant adventure.

Savannah’s water front is named, for obvious reasons, River Street.

You are invited to stroll with me.

I warn you, however, to wear comfortable shoes.

The streets are cobblestone, mostly from ballast left by the ships which visited the Savannah ports in the 18th century. 

Above, iron walkways lead the way to the shops on Factors Walk, so named for the cotton factors who would oversee the commerce during the days of King Cotton.

Those little iron bridges are my favorite part.

Complete solitude...

 Just me and my venti...

 and that homeless man back there

Before long the streets will be filled with people...

and the temperature will reach 98 degrees...

But at that moment, it is 

empty

     and quiet

      and cool...

Well, sort of...

So I finished my coffee

 and headed away from River Street

 for more Savannah adventures

 with the shiny red Kodak...

...which I intend to yak all about later.