Notes on Seasons. 12/28/09

One of my favorite parts of this move to Georgia has been the weather experiences I've had. From muggy days with thundery nights to frigid cold like I've never felt. I've also discovered the meaning of a wind chill factor.

With the ever changing weather comes the amazing seasons. I absolutely loved Fall. The colors and smells and feelings of warmth. I am still loving Winter. Crisp days and chilly nights make my home feel that much more comforting. Now I can't wait until Spring.

The stores here in Georgia are a bit ahead of themselves in this sense. The winter clothes, decor, etc are already on the clearance rack and bright springy colors are beginning to crowd the shelves. It's a constant reminder of what's to come. I must say, I really can't wait!

A strange miniature world in the middle of nowhere, Georgia. 12/20/09

Miniature goats, donkeys, horses and roosters? Yup. In the middle of nowhere Georgia.

Today I set out to find Tanglewood Farm, a petting zoo that houses 100 plus strange and interesting miniature animals. The 10 acre farm is in the foothills of the North Georgia Mountains, in Canton (about an hour drive from Atlanta).

I must admit I did not set my standards high, especially as I drove through the "backwoods" of Canton. And upon arrival my car stood solitary in the parking lot. I made my husband venture ahead of me to "check out the place". You see, from where I was standing I was concerned about the farm becoming the setting for my very own horror film, starring Leather Face.

He came back and reported that the place seemed nice, and that the person he spoke with had given him directions, instructions and made him sign a waver.

I'm often surprised by these strange Georgia gems out in the middle of the woods. This trip was no exception. The grounds are set like a maze, each animal has it's own section. You walk from pen to pen and feed the animals, pick them up and cuddle them and snap photos. We were actually encouraged to pick up the animals, for the record.

I've seen a few petting zoos in my 25 years, but this one was different in every way possible. We fed the animals whole wheat bread from a tin bucket. The animals were sweet and ran straight up to you. We were followed by a herd of Miniature Minx cats that jumped from fence post to fence post. Basically, what I'm saying is....this place is a little circus-esque. You can't take your eyes off the beauty of the animals, and they melt your heart because of their strange tiny size.

To name a few miniatures we pet and fed: goats, horses, a cow (which was dressed up like a reindeer-moodeer?) rabbits, donkeys, pigs, turkeys, chickens, roosters and more. My favorite was definitely the alpacas. There was a new baby that I made friends with.

So if your looking for something really strange yet really cute....Tanglewood Farm is your solution! I imagine in spring it's really something, with all the babies.

http://www.tanglewoodfarmminiatures.com/

Kindness shines through in Georgia. 12/16/09

Being from California, I consider myself something of an expert on the topic of neighborly love. In California, this time of year especially, cold shoulders and dirty looks abound. Everyone is in a hurry. The stores are packed and the overall mood is....well let's just say "Christmas Spirit" is not all around.

From our first day in Atlanta I've noticed the vast differences in people's general attitudes. While I wouldn't say that the "southern hospitality" myth is completely accurate, I will say that striking up conversation with strangers in more likely here in the South. People say hello, nod when they pass each other, hold doors open, etc.

I'm not saying that California is a horrible place to live, or that Californians are a certain way. I just think that everyone is so wrapped up in their busy lives that they've forgotten the little things that make a community a community.

Amidst the hustle and bustle of Holiday shoppers here in Georgia, kindness shines through every where I go. From the neighborhood police officers enjoying coffee and conversation at the local Starbucks (there's only one in my town) to the large amount of companies running charities for families in need. In the last few weeks I've talked to more strangers than I have in the years I spent in California. Our town isn't decorated to the hilt. It's not so crowded you have to spend 45 minutes looking for a parking spot. And it's cold outside. Yet, the Spirit does seem to be everywhere around me. It's enough to warm the heart.

Sweetgrass. 12/01/09

Being a self proclaimed artist myself, I greatly appreciate other artist's skills and talents. I've seen all sorts of art from wood carving to sculpture to the layering of paper. I had never seen nor heard of sweetgrass baskets until we took a trip to Charleston, SC to visit my cousins.

400 years ago, the slaves in Lowcountry practiced the art of basket weaving. This is a tradition that was in essence, kidnapped and brought to America much like the slaves themselves. The tradition has been passed from generation to generation by word of mouth. In fact, there are very few instructional books or classes on this specific weaving because of the way it has been shared within families.

This is a dying art, as the artists themselves have fewer and fewer family members to teach the art to. Sweetgrass baskets are becoming increasingly rare.

The baskets themselves were originally created for practical reasons, as tools on a plantation. They were used to gather rice and cotton. Now, they are pieces of fine art.

Today, you can drive down the "Sweetgrass Basket Maker's Highway" in South Carolina, and see about 20 roadside stands selling the baskets. Each stand is run by family, often on the families property. As time goes by, there will be fewer and fewer stands.

A stroll through the old slave market in downtown Charleston will give you a much closer look at these baskets. Women sit on the ground and weave, and sell the baskets they have finished. A very small basket, about the size of an egg costs $35. A very large basket can run $400 or more.