Synchronicity continues

A month or so ago I regaled in the synchronicity of a lost dog twelve miles away and the thread of people and events that led him back to his grateful owners. I had no idea, even after the dog was returned, where he belonged. I needed to know only that he was home safe and sound and everybody was happy again. End of story? Not really.

I got to talking with a couple I’ve never met before at the Lake Gaston Estates Association Hors d’ourves Social Night last week. As our conversation began flowing and became more animated I mentioned sitting at the beach early in the morning to write in my journal.

“Oh, my gosh! You’re the woman who wrote our telephone number on her shirt.”

I had to laugh ‘cause I knew immediately what she was talking about. The synchronicity that led the lost dog home, led the dog’s owners to me, too. In a moment we became fast friends when this unseen thread brought us together. As we continued talking we found other similarities in our lives also.

But that’s another story.

Golf Links

There’s nothing like stepping into a new situation and learning a new job that leads to seeing what others always saw and I didn’t. I recently started working at the Golf Links here in Lake Gaston. It took one ride in a golf cart over the hills, down the valleys, through the forests, and around the pond to have this golf course slip under my skin and open my mind.

My artist eyes feasted on the pale green of the ‘greens’ surrounded by a darker velvety green collar and another green flowing down the fairway with a different green of the rough. All this is framed by the many greens of the trees. The Carolina blue sky seems to compliment and complete the painting. Ireland’s patchwork quilt landscape came immediately to mind.

I’ve driven passed many golf courses over the years and just thought them boring. Ho hum. Where’s the excitement? Now I know. It’s here at the Golf Links.

A Note to My New Jersey Friends

Be not afraid that I am lonely in a strange land. Some of you, dear friends, were concerned when I first left the cozy, comfortable nest of Bordentown to settle as a recluse among the forests of North Carolina seeking the solitude of a writer’s life. No more delicate teas, convivial breakfasts at the Park Street Café. No more discussion lunches with my intelligent, interesting friends. No more wine-soaked dinners on the deck of Marcello’s or inside any of the wonderful Bordentown restaurants where we recorded the memories we hold so close to our hearts.

A few of you feared for my in-activity. What would I do with all that empty time?
Relax, I’m back working part-time, this past week I’ve put in 60+ hours. I’ve been meeting wonderful people, great discussions with folks just stopping by to chat, riding golf carts like a Texan surveying his 10,000 acre ranch and enjoying myself tremendously on the job. A customer even brought me half of a pound cake (that’s not a ½ pound cake.) Sound familiar? It’s my old life in a new place. Hmmmmm. I wonder if anyone will bring me real Irish Soda Bread in March?