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I’m with Joanne on this!
https://topofjcsmind.wordpress.com/2015/07/23/i-feel-for-you/
Lucky Seven
Written by Ellen Morris Prewitt on . Posted in GOD, Writing. 15 Comments on Lucky Seven
It began on the veranda of the Gibson Inn in Apalachicola, Florida, the town locals call Apalach, where oysters once reigned and the river whispers of pirate ships disappearing in the streaky dawn.
Boats on ol’ Apalach
In the waning heat of a summer afternoon in 2008, I joined my husband on the second floor porch of the hotel whose bar...
It’s Loopy, What Can I Say?
Written by Ellen Morris Prewitt on . Posted in General. 11 Comments on It’s Loopy, What Can I Say?
You wanna laugh? Come to the website and listen to the new Front Porch Moment Audiovine. Click on my picture where it says “Click on Ellen” (yes, I tried to make this easy). It’s short (4 seconds?) and it loops—duh, it’s a vine, in audio. That’s what makes it funny. The repetition. Again. And again. And . . .
Kinda...
Fewer Words, More Links
Written by Ellen Morris Prewitt on . Posted in Writing. 9 Comments on Fewer Words, More Links
Other places where I hang out on the web. Come visit!
https://twitter.com/ellenprewitt
https://www.facebook.com/MyVerySouthernVoice
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2539007.Ellen_Morris_Prewitt
https://www.instagram.com/vemphaha/
http://www.amazon.com/Making-Crosses-Creative-Connection-Active/dp...
What Can I Do—the Bree Model
Written by Ellen Morris Prewitt on . Posted in GOD, Racism to Reconciliation. 2 Comments on What Can I Do—the Bree Model
She had a crisis of faith. But so much went before that. Her work, her reading, her awareness. Her travel, her commitment, her participation. Her use of her talent. Her love of God. In her statement following her direct nonviolent action of removing the Confederate flag from where it flew on the grounds of the South Carolina capitol, Ms. Brittany...
What Can I Do?
Written by Ellen Morris Prewitt on . Posted in GOD, HOMELESSNESS, LOVE, Racism to Reconciliation. 5 Comments on What Can I Do?
I’m starting a new series here. I’m announcing this new series so you can skip over my followup posts if you want, ’cause I’m a polite Southern woman, and I sure don’t want to impose. But some of you want these posts. I know you do because I’ve been reading your comments and the question you’ve been asking...
First, There is Racism
Written by Ellen Morris Prewitt on . Posted in Featured, Racism to Reconciliation. 12 Comments on First, There is Racism
When my husband and I built our house at Pickwick Lake, we built it into the high bluffs that circle the lake. In order for this to work, the architect had to take steel beams and drive them through the shifting mud until he hit bedrock. The house was thus anchored and then built around these beams.
I keep thinking of this image as I ponder the...
We are The Champions
Written by Ellen Morris Prewitt on . Posted in HOMELESSNESS. 8 Comments on We are The Champions
When I began talking about a Door of Hope writing group book, people told me the book had to include my voice. Feature my voice, even. This was not what I wanted. Specifically, I didn’t want to be the well-off white woman who began working with those who had no shelter and immediately had the bright idea to write a book about her experience....
Just Rain
Written by Ellen Morris Prewitt on . Posted in GOD, GRIEF, LOVE. 10 Comments on Just Rain
When we were interring Daddy in the Old Chapel Hill Cemetery (x marks the spot, a shovel, and an urn), rain fell. We held umbrellas, but we were moving, digging and tossing dirt. The August rain dripped slow and steady—not warm, not cool, just rain—and even as it was happening, I knew I’d never act afraid of the rain again. No running to...
The Moment
Written by Ellen Morris Prewitt on . Posted in General. No Comments on The Moment
The shade on our living room window diffuses the light. When the sun’s going down, the room glows golden. A blue turquoise Christmas tree from Target sits on the window sill—the apartment is decorated in white and black and turquoise. I left the tree up after Christmas as a spot of color. Backlit by the sun, framed by the skyline of New...