For the sake of analogy, I’m Jimmy Stewart in this blog post because recently I sprained my ankle and positioned myself to write at the side window of our home in Savannah’s historic district:

Since I mentioned the constant stream of tours in my previous post, I thought I’d give you a visual as seen from this window. Here’s a walking tour, or, as I like to refer to them, future readers of my book, ALL THINGS UNUSUAL: A CONJURER’S PRIMER:

More future readers stopping to look at our historic home:

A small, but dedicated, group of prospective readers gathered in front of the Ivan Bailey side-gate:

Book Club Types who are not afraid of high humidity and temperatures in the high 90′s:

A horse-drawn wagon in search of future readers:

But I’ve saved the scariest best for last. Lulu, the main character in ALL THINGS UNUSUAL, gives ghost tours and encourages her customers to take photographs that show Spirit orbs. The slow clip, clop of horse hooves drew me to a bedroom window on the third floor late at night; there are so many orbs in this photo you can barely make out the horse-drawn carriage below:

Here’s the remarkable Ivan Bailey www.artmetal-ivanbailey.com/ gate filled with secret garden treasures they stop to admire:

The home’s previous owner perpetuated the gate’s legacy by filling the courtyard with the kind of lush plants I’ve been known to rhapsodize over. Now it falls to us to carry-on their good work. Beyond hiring a gardener and admiring what’s already there, I’m guilty of dreaming up potential additions…..a Lady Banks Rambling Rose? Gardenias? Camellias? A Magnolia tree?

Here’s the view from where I’ll write:

No excuses for falling short on inspiration.

Ideas appear at all hours. I’ve long since learned that if I fail to write one down when it announces its arrival late at night I’ll have a difficult time remembering which guest room it sauntered into when morning rolls around. Forget about calling it forth when I’m ready to sit at the keyboard. 

Those fragile, fleeting, flitting, what if…..hmmmm…..aha! moments happen anywhere. But for me, they most frequently occur here:

Awwwww. Nice.

Live oaks, crepe myrtle, magnolia trees, and history! Oh, and that thing about a historic home? Will 1799 do? It does it for us. 

Here’s our new front door. And that sign? It now reads: SOLD

We now have the perfect reason to take a trip home. And we’ve already bought the tickets.

What keeps me engaged and happy to remain inside? Writing and re-writing. I’ve received some thoughtful revision notes and, because I’m so into it, I’m loath to break-away. Currently I’m working on two projects and setting is a character in both. Y’all won’t be surprised to hear that one of the characters is Savannah. Here’s a favorite corner of mine frequently visited by the historic district’s ubiquitous ghost tours:

In the midst of writing, questions always arise that are best answered by actually being in Savannah – or at least that’s what I tell myself — and I’m already thinking about the next trip. But until then, I’ll have to rely on friend and Savannah historic expert, Harriet Meyerhoff http://www.Savannahsites.com/   

The other setting is Florence. My character is fighting for her life, yet again, and this time she finds herself in the Vasari Corridor that bridges the Arno River from the Uffizi museum to Palazzo Pitti:

Even in my earliest memories I spent a lot of time in my head with elaborate fantasies and it would be fair to say I’ve been playing with setting most of my life. While it’s true I have the opportunity to travel to Savannah much more frequently than Florence, it’s a pleasure to drop into both destinations in my mind. Feel that humidity curling your hair? Taste that hazelnut gelato in your imagination?

So if you drop by here anytime soon and it seems uncharacteristically quiet, you’ll know I’m writing and you’ll even know where I am. Why don’t you join me?

That was me standing in the boarding line, totally seduced, desperate for one more page.

Besides, I was willing to put up with my neighbor’s incessant sneezing because the prize at the end of the day was Savannah. You know how I love to walk the Squares, admire the architecture and get lost in the history.

No visit would be complete without meeting up with confidant and favorite Savannahian, Harriet Meyerhoff http://www.Savannahsites.com/. In addition to getting together with Harriet, I visited the breathtaking World War II memorial monument her husband, renowned Savannah architect, Eric Meyerhoff, designed, A World Apart. In a city full of monuments, this one fills the viewer with awe.

I was surprised to run into Ben Affleck in Wright Square…..who knew he shopped at CVS? Sorry, but I forgot I had a camera on me, so you’ll have to take my word for it when I tell you he looks like a movie star and has really broad shoulders. And let’s face it; I’m not cut-out to play paparazzi. So instead of Ben, you’ll have to settle for this shot of the Savannah River.

Stop grumbling, I said I was sorry.

After enjoying dinner on West Congress Street I dropped by Leopold’s Ice Cream Parlor for a scoop of coconut ice cream www.leopoldsicecream.com/about/history/ . Then it was a short walk back to the B&B. Every few minutes a ghost tour carriage ride passed beneath my window.

The soft clip clop of ghost tour horse hooves was the perfect sound effect for digging into Stacia Kane’s Unholy Ghosts, because in Savannah, ghosts are never far away.

I’m up until all hours of the night haunting the historic district’s virtual real estate sites. Dreaming of getting together for coffee with my friend Harriet at Gallery Espresso www.galleryespresso.com/   Imagining waking to the sound of church bells and birdsong instead of foghorns and the cry of seagulls. 

IT’S BEEN FIVE WHOLE MONTHS SINCE MY LAST VISIT.

Quick – throw me that cupcake things are starting to get ugly – I’m writing in all capital letters!

Yesterday, my daughter asked, “Don’t most people dream about warm, sunny beaches this time of year?”

Yes they do. But I’m remembering last year in mid-February when it actually snowed during one of my many trips to Savannah. One ridiculously early morning I stood in line at the Savannah – Hilton Head Airport and learned there would be no flights going out.  

I was stuck in Savannah for over forty-eight hours and it was wonderful.

I just made reservations to fly down at the end of the month. And I don’t care if I need an umbrella or the forecasters are predicting snow. That will be me soaking up inspiration for my current manuscript as I take long walks through the Squares. There might even be a fire waiting for me in the fireplace at E. Shaver Booksellers……

Then the fog dropped by uninvited, moved into the guestroom, and overstayed its welcome. It was that kind of week.

What to do? This morning we drove into San Francisco to Tartine Bakery and Café www.tartinebakery.com/ located in the Mission. They received the James Beard Award for Outstanding Pastry Chef and some say Tartine has the best bread in the United States. They certainly have their fans so get ready to stand in line.

And once you make it through those magic doors….get ready to stand in line……

And once you have your food……get ready to stand in line and mill about because there are very few tables.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhh the food. Pecorino and Almond Sandwich with sheep cheese, olive oil, lemon and sage:

Only you can decide whether it’s worth the insane, claustrophobic experience. If being jostled about with no good place to stand causes you to hyperventilate you probably should take a pass. On the other hand, if, like me, you think tres leches cake is a religious experience – Hey! — wait a second; I wasn’t saying you could cut in line.

I’m going to leave you now to return to my manuscript. But before I do, I should mention my urge to visit Savannah has been growing ever stronger. After lunch in the Mission I drove over to Union Street and here’s what I saw:

Savannah’s historic district has a Charlton Street, too, it’s beautiful, and I miss it. So, I’m taking this sign as my sign that it’s time to book that flight.

And don’t even get me started on airport security lines.

Great quote, and so true.

For New Year’s, we’re starting with black-eyed peas. We can’t turn away from our family’s southern heritage, and this year, Hannah did the cooking. Black-eyed peas, red pepper, collards, parsley, onion and green onion, hot sauce, sharp white cheddar = new year’s good luck at our house.

Just in case you don’t keep the faith with the black-eyed peas, here’s a Mega Million ticket.

My Irish, Scottish, Southern mother also believed in sweeping all the money in the house over the doorstep at the stroke of midnight. Apparently this signifies a prosperous new year. The year she inaugurated that old tradition into our family turned into the most dire of our lives and my brother and I physically restrained her from repeating it the following year.  

Since its a time to court luck we’ll also invoke Bill’s Irish grandmother’s tradition and serve salt cod for New Year’s Eve.

I’ve never been one to write New Year’s resolutions. It’s not that I don’t make resolutions – I just don’t make them on December 31^st or January 1^st and I don’t call them resolutions. Years ago I read Deepak Chopra’s book, The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success www.chopra.com/sslos Every night when I meditated I affirmed that I wanted to live closer to nature. It was a resolution of sorts, and two years later I was living on a houseboat, in the water, in the bay. Made me a believer.

My current affirmation is to pay attention to what is important and let go of the trivial. Let’s hope I have the wisdom to know the difference. There’s more – but I’m superstitious so we’ll leave it at that.

Now, a bowl of those black-eyed peas, please. Because…you’ve got to start somewhere, you know?

Yes, Yes, YES!

And yet, do we really feel like tackling major airports and delayed or canceled flights? No. Then come with me…..

Before this past weekend I’d never seen the red rocks of Sedona. Even under a threatening sky they really are spectacular.

After we explored the red rocks

We drove to Flagstaff for dinner with Bill’s childhood friends, Kevin and Rose.

Where we reveled in  the pleasure of really great food and wine (and truffles!!) with friends who told us our next destination should be – Jerome. Huh? Say that again?

Like a little European town, Jerome is nestled on the side of a mountain and getting there involves switch-backs and sheer drops. 

Jerome was described to us as part Mayberry, part Woodstock. We had a good time there.

On our drive to the airport in Phoenix we made our second stop at Rock Springs Cafe. Chili, cornbread and pecan pie for lunch on Friday. Biscuits and gravy for breakfast on Monday.  Plain, western cooking. 

Just what the doctor ordered.