Brenda Sutton Rose's Blog, page 3

Finding the Fletcher Graves in the Forest

2013: At my house this morning, my husband and I drag from the bed while the sun still sleeps. We have plans to search for the graves of Mary Vann (Polly) Dorminy Fletcher and her husband William Fletcher. Richard packs a book and a cell phone, a sure sign he has no intention of trampling […]

Stains: A Reading of the Poem

I have read this poem on about four different occasions, the first at my mother’s funeral. I’ve never published it except on my own website, though lines from the poem have been quoted by many, used on their own websites, posted with their photos. I hope you like the recording. My mama’s dress bears the […]

To Love a Dog

During the first phase of my early morning walk, thin clouds of cold fog drift over the mountains, and I move as slowly as ice melting. It is autumn, and on this moist morning the landscape is painted in the impasto technique, painted in colors rich and textured, painted in pigments of burnt sienna, alizarin […]

Richard, Pull Over!

I took some nature photos while in North Carolina last week.   During a sightseeing drive, my daughter told me that she and a friend, Robert Reid Goodson, who used to be the Director of Tift Theatre for the Performing Arts, now a theatre arts teacher in North Carolina, get a kick out of my […]

Dogwood Blues Free on Kindle Unlimited

After Jennifer Garner shared a quote on mine on her Instagram and Facebook accounts, I’ve been contacted by numerous people wanting to read Dogwood Blues, my novel. The timing could have been better; I’d ended my contract with my publisher and the book was no longer available. But that’s changed. A Kindle edition is available […]

To Catch a Memory

There are times when a day from my childhood comes to me, swirls around me, teases me as I try to catch the memory in my hands, as I try to catch the scents, the sounds, the warmth of the sun on my young face. In bare feet, I reach for it, the memory that […]

He Wore Brogans

He smelled of the earth, of soil, of the outdoors. His heart would beat to the rhythm of the land. He wore boots and brogans and a hat. He was a farmer. I wish I had his old brogans. I’d like to slip my feet into them and lace them up. I’d like for my […]

Stains

For my mother When red clay’s between my toes, and the sun’s setting over my head, the ghost of my mother blows in, riding on a honeysuckle breeze, oh lord, riding on a honeysuckle breeze. Her teeth, the keys of a piano. I play her grinning ivory notes with cadenced fumbling fingers, splattered with paint, […]

Wild Blooms Beside Georgia Roads

I’m up to my knees in blooming weeds beside a paved road in the country. A battered truck slows to a mere crawl and the driver calls out, “Everything okay?” “Yessir! I’m taking pictures!” He breaks into a smile that spreads across his dark face like an invasive blooming plant. His voice holding laughter, he […]

South Georgia’s Seductive Pitcher Plants

Earlier this week, after exploring an abandoned cemetery, my husband took me to a bog to show me a magnificent display of yellow pitcher plants under pines. The carnivorous plant, native to this area, is protected in Georgia. The leaves of pitcher plants are tall and shaped like a pitcher. Ants, bees, and all manner […]