Prater's Mill, near Varnell, is located on Coahulla Creek in NW Georgia. Each year in October, the "Prater's Mill Country Fair" draws vendors from all over the Southeast. Soapmakers, basketweavers, artisans, quilters - everyone finds something to delight that inner child. See the website for further information at http://www.pratersmill.org/. 
While scouting painting venues for our artists, we have found many historical sites. The Varnell House is located in NW Georgia, near Varnell. Apparently it saw some action during the Civil War. 
and a railroad spur in Dalton, GA. Between rumbling trains and passing commuters, it sits in the quiet elegance of long ago. The house and grounds are kept by the Whitfield-Murray Historical Society. 
he bravely fluttered against the stones, trying to fly over the small wall. Time and time he fell to the ground. He rested for a bit on Sandra's shoe. As we were leaving, he was gripping the stones with his tiny feet as his wings beat furiously at the air. We're sure he made it...his parents were both on the overhanging tree limbs calling encouragement. 
These beautiful pear trees line the street leading beside the Tunnel Hill Heritage Center. In the distance you can see the covered bridge and further on is Chetoogeta Mountain. The historic railroad tunnel isn't visible, although it's to the right beyond the bridge. This photo was taken in mid-March. The white blossoms are gone now - lots of rain and wind - but the other trees are 'furry' with their Spring buds. Come visit us in Tunnel Hill. 
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Old barns can be seen beside secondary highways in this North Georgia area. Most have been abandoned, left standing simply because it costs too much to tear them down. There's beauty in the rusted tin roofs, weathered timbers and simple architecture. These structures are fast disappearing, and it's sad that we don't seem to see them at all. We're in such a rush getting from Point A to Point B that we hardly notice these icons of an era inhabited by our grandparents. I sometimes imagine a barn, newly built, with its farm implements hanging on hooks, the sweet smell of hay and the scurry of mouse feet. 
. There'll be no 'new grass green' greens for awhile, and the crocus won't peek through the frosty ground until early Spring. Just a few inches of snow fall is usually all we get here in the South. Maybe I'll post some Summer photos in February. 
On this day, November 20th, last year I painted this 8"x10" oil. Several people asked if I had "tweaked" the foliage colors. I usually reply that I don't have to exaggerate Nature's coloring...I just have to see it with an artist's eye. The accompanying photograph shows an almost identical coloring in adjacent trees this year.
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were the gurgle of gentle waters running and the rustle of Autumn leaves falling. It's as though the land is closing up shop for the season. 
Recently while visiting Cloudland Station, I was reminiscing about Granddad's farm. I would play for endless hours on the old wagon. It was my pirate ship, my island, my playhouse...my special place. In my child's mind, it would always be there...but it was gone all too quickly. Now whenever I see an old farm wagon, I am transported back to those carefree days. 
to the soul. Sitting beside a stream, one can reflect upon the day's journey, the path chosen and the future unknown. 
