Meeting Aunt Sarah

By all definitions, this is my year.  Having taken a full week of the new year to ponder on how to officially begin, I am on a decidedly new path and I am excited to follow, without question, the unexpected and delightful road signs along the way.

I left my rut, packed an overnight, waited for my girlfriend to collect me and we drove half a day’s distance to “almost” Georgia.  I say “almost” Georgia because we stayed in a welcoming ancient bed and breakfast on the Florida side. 

Without giving too much detail, (as I am a rather private woman), our arrival was timed for late afternoon to allow for a side trip to a natural hot springs.  I had been and was over the moon excited to share this pristine treasure with my pal, Diana.  We dined leisurely at the lodge; lunch was perfection on a plate.  She chose a portabella burger and for me, the “bee keeper’s salad” (a trademark of the establishment) which was just too delicious. We took a moment and warmed ourselves by the fireplace before heading to the loading dock for a nautical guided tour of the state park.  You noticed I said “warmed ourselves…” “In Florida”, you ask?  Well yes, it’s early January, unseasonably cold and the icicles were still adorning the lower branches of the Cyprus which lined the banks of the springs and river.  Salt had been scattered on the stone pathway to ensure the safety of all guests who were not focused on looking down as they entered the lodge.

Kept warm by the several layers we were in (under our very best winter coats), we joined the remaining few brave guests and were soon underway in a windowless, ferry boat for a look see at the undisturbed magnificence of Mother Nature.

Our Park Ranger was passionate and the rehearsed monologue was dotted with personal observations and pleas for us to understand and appreciate our surroundings. The emphasis was to educate and encourage preservation efforts both ongoing and planned in the near future. 

I was amazed, my friend was equally amazed and busied herself crossing from one side to the other photo documenting the many native bird species and reptilian occupants.  The family behind us had an ongoing oral interpretation between mother and children.

This area has Hollywood history as well as we were told three Tarzan movies and the cult classic, “Creature from the Black Lagoon,” were filmed in their entirety at this location.  All in all, the few hours spent there gave the day a five star rating.

A short hour’s drive brought us near the bed and breakfast which would welcome us home for the next two evenings.  This is small town America

where the locals know all the shortcuts across town, this fact was not readily available to the two in the car however and I needed to call our host for clarification.  Embarrassing or not, we were three blocks too far in one direction, but with encouragement and plenty of patience on the other end of my cell phone, we found the driveway at the end of the white picket fence and parked, unloaded and waited for our host to join us.

In the meantime, having been given permission to “move in”, we explored our rooms on the second floor of this historic 1872 residence.  Our host arrived with a cheery “hello” and soon we had wine and dessert in hand amicably chatting with her and learning about the best of three restaurants still open at this hour for dinner.

Another scenic encircling of the downtown area brought us to a parking spot just caddy corner from the Mexican restaurant.  We hurried in as the wind had picked up and were plopped in a booth and greeted by who we believe to be the proprietor.  The menu was bountiful and after deciding that we were indeed hungry, ordered from the “entrée” list.

It was evidently near closing, as we were the last patrons, so we paid and I delayed our departure because I could not resist the opportunity to show off my Spanish speaking ability.  I was impressed that I remembered so many of the verb conjugations and the young man who ran the cash register was equally delighted at my wanting to carry on a conversation.

The final drive “home” was lighted by a glorious full moon.  Heading upstairs to our rooms, we agreed on 8:30 for breakfast.  It didn’t take long for me to slide under the 600 thread count sheets sandwiched between feather topper and powder blue duvet.

Everything in the room was blue or slightly blue . . and this has significance.  I was in the “Blue Room”.

Traditionally bed and breakfast establishments name the several private rooms.  When booking online, photos entice the guest to experience ambience specific to their taste.  My friend had the Magnolia Room, fitting as she is a Southern lady.  For me, the color blue reminds me of my mother.  It’s both color of my spirit animal totem (blue bird) and it was her favorite color as well.

The house hosts 6 bedrooms, parlor and dining room which comprise the common areas available to guests. Outside is a deep front porch resplendent with rocking chairs and the focal point in the garden is a three tier fountain which stands about 15 feet tall. Between two bedrooms upstairs is an entrance way to the cupola.

The following morning, we were greeted by husband and wife, already seated at the table, who were also guests.  Conversation was relaxed and interesting.  They were from the United Kingdom and shared insights into the daily life they have shared together in their 47 years of marriage.

Our host informed us of the several courses she would be serving. Citrus,

sausage (local), eggs, and maple pecan pancakes.  The condiments included mayhaw berry jelly. As each item was brought from behind the closed door to her commercial kitchen and private suite, our host delighted us with personal glimpses and factoids about the neighborhood.  The local Chamber of Commerce is lucky to have elected her President.  She stated they had been trying to do so for the 14 years she had lived there.

Our itinerary planned, the first day was designated for exploring Georgia; Thomasville to be exact. It’s just a short 20 minutes to the city limits.  Of course we didn’t pay attention to the sign and were headed out of town before realizing that we missed our turn.  This prompted an unscheduled stop at a chain motel for directions. We were able to gather multiple brochures, thanked the man at the check in desk and headed back in the opposite direction arriving at THE sign stating “Thomasville, right”.

First stop was to the Visitors center, which lead us back to the car for a 9 block trip to the Museum of History.  The tours, both guided and self-navigated were well worth the couple hours transported back to the glorious days of antebellum plantations and glimpses into the pre and post -Civil War era in the “Real South”.

Time for lunch, the museum’s director suggested a soup and sandwich shop. We found it nestled among the rows of converted former office buildings; nothing fancy, but historically significant and telling of the laid back, never in a hurry, atmosphere that we had come to appreciate.

Just moments after being seated, we were greeted by a well -dressed elderly gentleman (long wool coat, scarf and hat- maybe in the Dobbs style, freshly shined shoes and gentile appearance) who made a point of asking how we were and shared with us the recent loss of his wife of 65 years. This self-appointed ambassador, having executed his duty to welcome us, walked to the counter to inquire of the health of the wait staff and to order the daily soup special.

Food was hot and definitely regional as I had never been served a grilled cheese sandwich with red peppers. I liked it. We both ordered the chicken and rice soup and agreed that there was a very good cook running the kitchen.

And what girls day out would be complete without shopping?  Downtown didn’t disappoint. The next to last stop was to a newly opened wine and tapas shop where we enjoyed wine tasting before making selections for our private collections as well as a gift for our host.

Dinner had been decided earlier in our day and we found the local’s favorite pizzeria, ordered take out and once back to the B and B, we enjoyed our 12 inch room temperature pesto and veggie pizza.

As we sat at the designated table for two (rather than the massive formal dining room table), we were greeted by the proprietor.  She had just a few groceries to put away and stopped to ask about our day.  Conversation turned to how she became owner to this establishment and how her years of dedication brought about the transformation and status the home now enjoys.  Every wall, floor board, window pane, stair step and fireplace was now original, the imperfections lent to its stateliness and charm.

Bed time was around 10 for me.  I settled into a guide book of the town before welcoming the solitude I had so desperately needed. And then it happened…after the text I sent to my friend stating that I had just read we were staying in the exact town with the distinction of “most haunted small town in the South”.  She replied “Cemetery, homes”?  I said, “No further information, see you at breakfast”.

Light at bedside out, night light in bathroom on for emergencies, I closed my eyes and after several minutes…heard “thump”.  I got up to look under the bed.  I walked into the bathroom to see if something in my make- up bag found its way to the floor.  No. on both accounts.

The blower for the A/C Heat came on and I rolled over and just listened.

“Thump” again and again.  “Well, is someone tossing pebbles at the windows? No, I think not, no one knows I’m here”.

I fell blissfully asleep, remembering the fabulousness of the day.  Remembering this celebratory birthday get away was to be the catalyst for my very successful and intuitive year ahead.

First to breakfast, as we wanted to get an early start, while Diana headed to the coffee pot, I questioned our host about the hauntings and she said with a twinkle in her eye…”you know the Blue Room is the only room visited here in this house.  Wait a minute, I’ve got something to show you.

She brought a brochure and told me to gaze at the photo in the lower left corner…said “see the Orbs”?  “They appear in the garden, it’s documented.

And now it’s time to tell you about Aunt Sarah.

She was the maiden Aunt of the doctor and his family.  She lived here and died childless; such a shame.  Have you been to the cupola?  “No, not yet, I replied”.  You should go, her rocking chair is up there.”

Food came to table, other couple arrived and time got away from me.  Always being a polite guest and one to love conversation, “Aunt Sarah” and hauntings slipped my mind. 

The wife did share, however, that she had also read about this phenomena and asked me what happened.  I explained best as I could and she smiled. Her husband always so stoic at meal time also smiled.

Girlfriend and I had to check out, the morning would be first and last opportunity to explore this small community. Almost out the door, I remembered that we hadn’t seen the cupola.  We headed back upstairs and were met by our newest friends who were navigating their I pad in the hallway.  The door was pointed out and she and I climbed the almost vertical staircase and arrived in the octagonal loft with the solitary rocking chair on the original wooden floor. On the way, we noticed the well -worn doors to the attic spaces. Some were taught and others characteristically warped with hinges frozen in time.

You could see the whole city through the magnolias. Each window framed a glimpse of life in all directions. We gazed at the rocking chair, Diana extended a hand to caress the curve at the tip of the arm rest. On the descent from the cupola, the poem “Desiderata” was hung for all to read.  We read. We were lifted to a higher plane of compassion and we tip toed down the last few steps in reverence to those who had gone before.

Did I meet Aunt Sarah?  I believe she visited and in doing so, gave me permission to release my fears and embrace my destiny.

·         I would like to thank Pat Inmon, owner of the 1872 John Denham Bed and Breakfast in Monticello, FL for welcoming us and making us feel at home. My personal journey shall be forever forged by those I meet along the way, both in the natural world and from far above the clouds.