Seeing Southern
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    • An Author | A Dream Comes True
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    • His Major League Story | Clint Frazier
    • Ann Chapin | Holy Inspiration
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      • Tales from the South
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      • People and Places of Key West
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      • Hot Blues on a Humid Georgia Day | Blind Willie McTell
      • Thomasville Rose Festival + Due South
      • It's Who We Are: Storytellers
      • Telling Stories in Young Harris
      • A Colonel and a Governor
      • It's All About the Blues
      • Time for 'Shine in Dawsonville
      • Climbing Higher at Aska >
        • Favorite Aska Recipes
      • It's All About the Animals | Georgia Wildlife Center
      • A Walk to Remember
      • Boys and Their Toys | Tank Town USA
      • Apple Pickin'' at Mercier Orchards
      • A Family Affair | Georgia Mountain Fair
      • All Aboard | Blue Ridge Scenic Railroad
      • Shrimp (and Grits)
      • The Blues of Blind Willie | 2014
      • A Fresh Look at the Prince
      • Taking Home the Golden Onion
      • The Farmhouse Inn | Hundred Acre Farm
      • Tally Ho! | Belle Mead Hunt Club
      • An Inspirational Childhood | Gena Knox
      • Top Southern Chefs Dish Tailgating
      • Pure Southern Sweetness | Sorghum
      • Celebrating Gone with the Wind
      • When in (Georgia's) ROME
      • A Slice of Buttermilk Pie | Yesterdays
      • Mud, Sweat and a Few Tears
      • Georgia's Sunflower Festival
      • St. Mary's | Georgia's Pathway
      • Get Fired Up In Macon
      • A Splash in the Historic Heartland
      • Cakes & Ale
      • A Sweet Onion of a Time
      • The Old Sautee Store
      • Cumberland Island
      • Fun Behind the Lens | GAC
      • Monroe Girls Corps
      • The Destruction of Tara
      • Dawsonville Moonshine Festival
      • Oktoberfest in Helen
      • Blairsville Sorghum Festival
      • The Battle of Chickamauga
      • One Ball | Two Weddings
      • The Battle of Tunnel Hill
      • The Battle of Resaca
      • Happy Plus 2 | Father Luke
      • Jason Aldean | Night Train | Sanford Stadium
      • The Makin' of Round Here
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      • Here's What Hope Looks Like
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      • Mama to Son | Harris Leatherworks
      • The Earthy Balance of the Yadkin Valley
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      • Old 96 District
      • The Lowcountry of South Carolina
      • A Taste of Gullah
      • Left Hand, Right Hand | Zipline Hilton Head
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        • Taste of the South | Euphoria
        • Find Euphoria in Greenville
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a new beginning

12/31/2013

2 Comments

 
i like endings because as sure as rainbows follow rain, a beginning is just around the corner. i'm one of those crazy women who loves a new calendar. the crisp, white paper screaming for me to deface its surface, with highlighters and off-the-wall colored inks, to make lists and appointments, followed by fruitful mark throughs and completed to do's. here lives proof i made a goal and its success [or failure, in come cases] is in black and white.

it's the last day of 2013 on mayne mill and the heavens are a little cloudy and i'm beginning taxes and finishing laundry. oh, the envy i sense in your eyes. i'm recalling a few of those lists and goals during the year that was and all of the good things that happened, the adventures taken that were not even anticipated this time last year, the children who broke my heart for the millionth time and those who stopped me in my tracks with utter amazement, friends who came and went and those who reappeared when my heart needed them the most. there were journeys to places i had only heard about from others and now, i stood on the same island where wild horses roamed, the same bridge where forest gump crossed, the same doorway through which a governor traveled each night. quite spectacular for this old coot.
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remembering is a powerful tool, one that should be used for good. to learn. to change what went wrong. to build upon went right.  however, don't let the past interfere with the present, i tell my children, for if we let it, it most certainly will take over today. i  teach them that it is important to revisit the past for only one reason, as a reminder of what will happen if our actions never change. if we allow people to run over our emotions and thoughts, then they will. if we put ourselves in precarious situations, more than likely, we will fall. if we fail to use common sense, well, we deserve what we will eventually get. if we don't put ourselves first, no one else will. those are some fairly simple certainty's that took me a half a century to nail down. in the course of a year, i tend to forget them. but on this day, when all is said and done, i reflect and remember, and most of the time, i kick myself in the butt for not listening to myself. i like to blame it on menopause.

i look forward to a new year. i predict 2014 will be good.  i'll share just a bit of my calendar ink with you:


  • i will bite my tongue - harder, longer, and more often.
  • i will go twice as many places on twice as many wheels as in 2013.
  • i will not compromise and i will not lay down.
  • i won't care what you think or why you think it [southern guilt - that's another diary, another time!]
  • i'll push the envelope again [parasailing and ziplining]!
  • i'll stick my neck out and catch my breath later.
  • i'll figure out a way to hold my grand-daughter this year while she can fit in the crook of my arm [a big please on this one].

i can feel a beginning on its way.  i guess whatever kind of beginning is up to me. happy 2014 and here's to all the full calendars and fruitful mark throughs. 

2 Comments

from sicily to the south

12/23/2013

0 Comments

 
when i first married len, he told me amazing stories of his mother's immigrant family, grandfather salvatore and grandmother angelina lentine. how they arrived from sicily traveling through ellis island, speaking no english and carrying few belongings and many dreams hoping that these would be enough in a new country. how they carved out a home for their growing family in new jersey where their descendents still remain.

how angelina raised her seven children alone once her young husband died, laboring and resolving to make it a happy and productive home. how she raised chickens and would gather the fullness of her apron at her waist, filling it with the day's supply of eggs. how she spent many years in mourning and dressed in black because of the loss of her husband and many children. how she would sit at the phone, dressed in black, calling on children and neighbors daily just to see how everyone was doing. how she would tell her girls to "make dinner and don't ask me what to make" because she had worked hard enough during the day to think any more.

how she would work in the kitchen with eager children watching, making gnocchi so fast that her fingers were blurred by speed. how she was ask len in her blend of italian and broken english to "fikisit lenny" (fix it) and when he would, she would praise him with "looka lika brand new".

i didn't know angelina but i know her kind. the kind who would cling to the words of her mother, remembering what she had been taught as a child and knowing that if she followed those rules, she would make it. a woman who despite the loss of her husband would forge through giving little thought (in public) to the fact that she was alone. it was only in her private moments that the tears would come, if they came at all. a woman who had the respect and love of her children and even though she was as tough as nails, they loved her and somewhere in the back of their mind, wanted to be just like her. a woman whose grandchildren marveled at the table before them, the italian delicacies of lasagna and meatballs and manocotti, all homemade with, well, secrets she never disclosed. a woman with such strength and resolve that it made your head spin. 

i hope len never forgets angelina and the way she called him 'lenny' when no one else in the world dare would. i hope he doesn't forget her misshapen fingers working at the speed of sound assembling traditional feasts for her family. i hope i never forget the power of a woman to hold a family together despite death and struggle.

so each time i make and enjoy cucidati, i think of angelina, her family and her beginnings. i hope that she'll have this inkling of a southern lady trying to be just a little sicilian and a whole lotta strong.
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Cucidati (Italian fig cookies)

i searched high and low for the recipe and it was tough to find. the one that is by far the best, in my humble opinion, is by brown eyed baker. she is the mastermind behind this recipe and i believe managed to merge tradition and flavor in one recipe.
dough
4 cups all-purpose flour
1½ tablespoons baking powder
¼ teaspoon salt
½ cup sugar
1 cup vegetable shortening
1 egg
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
½ cup milk

sift flour, baking powder, and salt in a large mixing bowl. whixk in sugar and combine well. cut in the shortening with a fork or pastry blender and work the mixture until it looks like cornmeal. in a separate bowl whisk together the egg, vanilla and milk. add the egg mixture to the flour mixture and mix with an electric mixer for a full 3 minutes. dough will be soft. remove from bowl and knead by hand for 5 minutes. divide the dough into 4 equal pieces, wrap each with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 45 minutes.
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filling
1 cup dried figs
1 cup dried dates, pitted
¾ cup raisins
½ cup walnuts, chopped or ground in food processor
½ teaspoon ground cinnamon
¼ cup honey
¼ cup orange marmalade
grind figs, dates, and raisins in a food processor until coarse. add the remaining ingredients.
(i mix these a day before i assemble. i leave them in the frig overnight which seems to make the gooey goodness so much richer. use sourwood honey for a touch of southern sweetness.)
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work with one piece of dough at a time. on a floured surface, roll the dough into squares - about 3" by 3". use an ice cream scoop and gather filling and place in the middle of each square. pull the edges over top, and pinch to seal.
(my cookies never look the same. the more filling i can get inside, the better. don't worry about looks; once you drizzle sugar and sprinkles on top, you'll forget about how 'creative' you have been.)
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icing
2 cups powdered sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
4 tablespoons milk (approximately)
colored sprinkles (optional)
mix together, adding only enough milk to achieve desired consistency. make sure it is still thick, not runny. drizzle on the tops of the cookies, then sprinkle with color. let them set before storing in airtight container.

(it takes about 2 days for these to completely disappear. as good as they are, they are still all about family and tradition. enjoy!)

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Angelina in her garden
0 Comments

the eyes have it . . . this christmas and always

12/20/2013

0 Comments

 
one of the best elements of our 'job' is that we get to meet people, photograph them and place their story within our collection of narratives - like the dalai lama, florida georgia line and lloyd carter. more than likely, our paths would have never crossed unless opal (our camera's name) or storytelling hadn't assembled us in the same space. that moment in our lives would have been forever blank, but now, it's filled with new faces and sparkling laughter that make our existence richer. sometimes, we click with people; other times, not so much, but that's okay. no matter what the end result, i firmly believe that every chance meeting leaves an impression.

this past weekend we met the haler family. in our short afternoon together, here's what we took away:
  • there's an amazing amount of love living in their 1870s house.
  • a smile is worth a million bucks, and conner and justin are quite rich.
  • they are patient people, especially with photographers whose learning curve is quite massive.
  • conner's cat becomes giddy when conner's home.
  • mom and dad (teri and chris) are extremely proud of their sons and, if given the chance, will squeeze them often.
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and in telling these stories, we have learned a truth - the eyes have it. always. the true story, the authentic story can be found within the eyes. the happiness. the sorrow. the anticipation. the desire. focus there and you'll always capture the true story. that's what we do -  find that window of the soul and let the eyes do the rest - sometimes, it's not the story the subject intends on sharing; on rare occasions, the eyes reflect the words precisely.

our parents were great storytellers, not because they were intense talkers, but because they believed the importance of remembering. with no camera, the oral traditions became the record. mama, and especially daddy, would carve grins from ear to ear when the tales became too funny or tears would escape the eyes when the tales became too sad. they spoke with their eyes, their facial expressions, their hands. remember when mama said, "use your words." as a writer, by all means, but frequently, we need help to dig a little deeper. with 'opal' watching and our ears listening, we will strive to capture the entire story.
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at the of end of our first year as an 'official' storyteller, and during this christmas season, we are thankful beyond measure for the eyes that have glanced our way and for those who have allowed us to share their story with the rest of the world. we are blessed. our desire for this season and all the days that will follow is that you will take note of the memoir your eyes are sharing. the stories your lips impart. for that is your story, the one that you share with others, and the one by which you will be remembered.
0 Comments

population 22 on possum hollow

12/3/2013

2 Comments

 
my uncle ivet, my mama's brother, was my hero, or my second daddy, depending on which day you asked me about him. he was a teddy bear, towering over me and his norwegian wife, sophia, and his hugs enveloped me so that i couldn't breath. i loved them and as i climbed up the steps to his living room, i would barely get in the door until he had his arms wrapped around me. the logan family never said the "i love you" phrase or held much affinity toward public displays of affection, so i craved this moment.

he was what you would call today, a picker. he had every do-dad imaginable. those 'dads' weren't just small either. they were bird houses, cars, even mountains. he told me of one auction where he purchased land in north georgia, a mountain, an entire mountain. crazy, i thought. then he told me of his dream to build an underground house on the side of his mountain. warm in the winter, cool in the summer - heaven in his eyes. then, he told me he had never seen it, but he was certain it was a good deal. he died still believing in that deal and wishing for his underground house.

lost without him, his wife sold most of the mountain, but gave me a lot as a gift. he would want you to have it, she told me. he knew the mountain girl that lived within me, and she would be always be at home here. this would be my resting place. whenever time came.

time has come. it's time to change the possum hollow sign to population 22. not sure the time frame, but everyone has to start somewhere. today, we start with a dream, a goal, and the dream of ivet pushing me and this mountain girl to make my mountain retreat a reality.

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2 Comments
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    Whether it is exploring this amazing world or being content on my own piece of real estate near Athens, Georgia, I'm spinning stories and fashioning tales from a Southern perspective. As an editor and writer, I get to meet incredible people and share their stories. As a photographer, I get to cement these moments in time. As a wife and mother, I'm always excited to see what's around the next corner, For it's anything but ordinary.
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©2013-2023 Seeing Southern, L.L.C. All images and text appearing on this website are the exclusive property of Judy and Len Garrison d.b.a. Seeing Southern, L.L.C. unless otherwise stated. Two Coots Travel, Judy Garrison Writer, Groceries and Grit, Seeing Southern Photography, and Full Circle Fotography are part of Seeing Southern, L.L.C.
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P.O. Box 1259, Hayesville NC 28904  | SeeingSouthern@gmail.com | SeeingSouthernPhotography@gmail.com | judy@seeingsouthern.com
  • Seeing Southern
  • Seeing Southern People
    • Easy Like Sunday Morning | Jimmy Carter
    • Easy Like Sunday Morning | Jimmy Carter | Part 2
    • The Last Backyard Juke Joint in America
    • The Causeway Storyteller
    • A Love Letter to a Moonshiner
    • Her Story | Dolly Parton
    • An Author | A Dream Comes True
    • His Story | Andrew McCarthy
    • His Major League Story | Clint Frazier
    • Ann Chapin | Holy Inspiration
    • Her Story | Juette Logan Hill
    • His Musical Story | Brent Cobb
    • Her Story | Julia Elizabeth Synder Nobles
    • Florida Georgia Line | Georgia Theatre
    • His Story | Private First Class Lloyd Carter
  • Two Coots Travel
    • Seeing Southern | Where Can We Go Next?
    • Seeing Southern | Why We Travel
    • Seeing Southern | What's in Our Bag
    • With Gratitude | Top Travels >
      • With Gratitude | Our Top 5 Moments of 2019
      • With Gratitude + Our Top 5 Moments of 2018
      • With Gratitude + Our Top 5 Moments of 2017
      • With Gratitude + Our Top 5 Moments of 2016
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      • With Gratitude + Our Top Moments of 2013
    • Seeing Alabama >
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      • Rock Town Distillery
      • Moss Mountain
      • Tales from the South
    • Seeing Florida >
      • St. Augustine | What's Old is New Again
      • St. Augustine | Eat To Your Hearts Content
      • Happy New Year Road Trip
      • Heading West, Key West
      • People and Places of Key West
    • Seeing Georgia >
      • Hot Blues on a Humid Georgia Day | Blind Willie McTell
      • Thomasville Rose Festival + Due South
      • It's Who We Are: Storytellers
      • Telling Stories in Young Harris
      • A Colonel and a Governor
      • It's All About the Blues
      • Time for 'Shine in Dawsonville
      • Climbing Higher at Aska >
        • Favorite Aska Recipes
      • It's All About the Animals | Georgia Wildlife Center
      • A Walk to Remember
      • Boys and Their Toys | Tank Town USA
      • Apple Pickin'' at Mercier Orchards
      • A Family Affair | Georgia Mountain Fair
      • All Aboard | Blue Ridge Scenic Railroad
      • Shrimp (and Grits)
      • The Blues of Blind Willie | 2014
      • A Fresh Look at the Prince
      • Taking Home the Golden Onion
      • The Farmhouse Inn | Hundred Acre Farm
      • Tally Ho! | Belle Mead Hunt Club
      • An Inspirational Childhood | Gena Knox
      • Top Southern Chefs Dish Tailgating
      • Pure Southern Sweetness | Sorghum
      • Celebrating Gone with the Wind
      • When in (Georgia's) ROME
      • A Slice of Buttermilk Pie | Yesterdays
      • Mud, Sweat and a Few Tears
      • Georgia's Sunflower Festival
      • St. Mary's | Georgia's Pathway
      • Get Fired Up In Macon
      • A Splash in the Historic Heartland
      • Cakes & Ale
      • A Sweet Onion of a Time
      • The Old Sautee Store
      • Cumberland Island
      • Fun Behind the Lens | GAC
      • Monroe Girls Corps
      • The Destruction of Tara
      • Dawsonville Moonshine Festival
      • Oktoberfest in Helen
      • Blairsville Sorghum Festival
      • The Battle of Chickamauga
      • One Ball | Two Weddings
      • The Battle of Tunnel Hill
      • The Battle of Resaca
      • Happy Plus 2 | Father Luke
      • Jason Aldean | Night Train | Sanford Stadium
      • The Makin' of Round Here
    • Seeing Louisiana >
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      • Come for the Lobster Roll
      • The Soul of the Coast
      • Hugging the Coastline of Maine
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      • Mississippi Sings the Blues
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      • 24 Hours in New York City
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      • Tasting Sylva: Come for the Beer
      • The Super Bowl . . . of Sorts
      • A Total Eclipse of the Sun
      • The Great Smoky Mountain Railroad
      • Getaway to Bryson City
      • Running For The Pot Of Gold
      • Mama to Son | Harris Leatherworks
      • The Earthy Balance of the Yadkin Valley
    • Seeing South Carolina >
      • Old 96 District
      • The Lowcountry of South Carolina
      • A Taste of Gullah
      • Left Hand, Right Hand | Zipline Hilton Head
      • Siesta at Sonesta
      • A State of Euphoia 2013 >
        • Taste of the South | Euphoria
        • Find Euphoria in Greenville
    • Seeing Tennessee >
      • Watching Paint Dry | See Rock City
      • Soggy Bottom Boys Reunited
      • Graceland
      • The Magic in the Holler | Gatlinburg
      • Working Class Art | Robert Alewine
      • What Would Wilma Maples Think?
      • Storytelling Festival
      • Smoky Mountain Fireflies
      • Robert Tino's Appalachian View
      • Love's Farewell Tour | International Storytelling Festival
    • Seeing Virginia >
      • National DDay Memorial
      • For the Love of the Train
      • A Night with the Salem Red Sox
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      • Mountains Set to Music
      • Travel South in Charleston
      • Hitting the Trails in Logan
      • West Virginia in Black and White
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      • Seeing Belize
      • Seeing Bermuda | Bermudiful Bermuda >
        • 10 Days | 2 Coots | 1 Paradise
      • Seeing Canada >
        • The Rising of Noelle-Ange
      • Seeing Costa Rica >
        • Pack Lighter, Travel Better
        • Outside the Box | Medical Tourism
        • Only on Osa
        • Eating My Way Down Calle 33
      • Seeing Europe | Viking River Cruises 2019 >
        • Amsterdam Ramblings
        • Travel Like a Viking | Rhine River
        • Travel Like A Vking | The Alruna's Allure
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