I love the Botanical Garden because they do such an amazing job of inserting sculpture into the meandering walkaways.
That’s what I’d like to do with my writing: have a fairy or a goddess or a giant pop up from an otherwise average location and have it fit into the plot just fine. In my real life, I look for that kind of thing every couple blocks — for jewels to fall out of trees or glitter to leap from passing car windows. It doesn’t often. Instead I usually get a car horn or a “Ma’am! Your turn,” because I’m dilly dallying with a magazine in the check out line.
There’s a little creek I pass on my way to Ian’s school where I really think the elves must live. It’s a tributary of Peachtree Creek and it certainly has a name, but I don’t know it. It’s no more than 1 1/2 feet wide and is often almost dry, it is so narrow. But it’s very sweet and well tended and forms a dark, meandering ravine at the bottom of a hill that I walk next to on my way to Fernbank Elementary. If I were a water spirit, I’d live there. I can’t think I’m the only one who’s thought so.
We’re putting out the zombies in the yard this month and getting our costumes ready. It’s too bad it can’t be every month we get a magic costume or a little devil hanging from the branches. What do you do to put the mystery in your day? My next step is to buy a mirrored dresser. I’m dying for one. It’s Magic Kingdom all the way and not at all over the top. I swear.
Mariella Mehr — Poet, Memoirist, Acivisit, Survivor Not many Roma divulge their experience of the Holocaust. Unlike the many Jewish organizations which provide documentary evidence, . . .