Fayette County News

Fayette County


Wild, Weird, and Wonderful!

Lynn Horton is a freelance writer and editor who in another lifetime taught English and Creative Writing at McIntosh High School and later worked in the Starr’s Mill High School Media Center.
Lynn Horton is a freelance writer and editor who in another lifetime taught English and Creative Writing at McIntosh High School and later worked in the Starr’s Mill High School Media Center.

It’s been a crazy week. Every day something strange or wonderful has occurred. I just don’t know where to start. With the weird? The wonderful? Perhaps the wild??
How about a coincidence that spans 36 years? Really weird. Saturday, we were serving as docents at the Senoia Area Historical Museum, the very site of the wonderful Art Show Exhibit, the opening of which took place the evening before the strange vistation.
Thirty-five years ago we built a home in Peachtree City; the Mullikins, who stopped in to see the Artists Where Art Thou? Show, were our very first next-door neighbors on Planceer Place. Long time. Really long time—no see. We had a lovely visit. Then, just as we were closing the museum, the Larsons stopped by to see the show. These folks live in that same house and were our neighbors when we left to move to Senoia. Thirty-six years; our Book End Neighbors. Weird “visitation.” Ha!
Back up now to Friday night. Just imagine!! Over 100 guests enjoying refreshments while buzzing about the marvelous artwork displayed on the walls of the rooms at #6 Couch Street. Delighted by paintings, drawings, and by the soft and hard sculptures, some made from “found objects,” one created through the magic of electricity! Imagine an exhibit that just a few weeks ago was only a glint in the eye of SAHS board member Susan Zeigler (also a member of the newly-organized Senoia Artists Collective) and coming to fruition in what seemed only the flick of her magic wand! Along with the Herculean efforts of director Maureen Schuyler and her husband Jim. Kudos to those three especially.
Well, imagine no longer, for you can still see the exciting collection featuring the work of thirteen local artists. The show will remain at the Senoia Museum through March 16. Stop in during regular museum hours Friday or Saturday from 1 til 4 pm or join members at the Society’s regular monthly meeting on Thursday evening March 8 at 7pm.
Another “Wonderful” was our Sunday morning visit to the Senoia United Methodist Church where many, many friends and neighbors welcomed us so warmly, and where we enjoyed one of the sweetest sermons we have heard in a long time and which was presented by the very lovely and gifted spiritual leader of that beautiful and historic church, Pastor Ashley Jenkins. The message was one which speaks to all Christians, no matter our church affiliation. It was one that challenges each of us to Gather, to Go, and to Grow. We are all encouraged to follow these three mandates, to march to the beat generated by The Great Commission, to carry out the orders given us by Christ, our ultimate spiritual leader, who loves and cares for each of us deeply.
The Chancel Choir led by organist/pianist Jim Preece was also exceedingly wonderful. Oh, oh, to be able to play an instrument, any instrument with such ease, to use my voice to produce such angelic notes. Such gifts!
Too many superlatives? Too much hyperventilating? I warned you earlier that I would need a bag full of descriptives to share the events of this past week.
Tuesday afternoon was spent basking in the warm February sun on the porch at the Senoia Library. Our Writer’s Group was being interviewed by Neal Monroe for an upcoming article in a local magazine. I believe he was rightly impressed and entertained by the variety of both professional and amateur writers in this group which is dedicated to the “gentle” criticism, encouragement, and promotion of one another. Oh, that the world was made up of more groups of people with such concern, such genuine care for one another’s feelings and success.
Ah, sorry . . . it must have been the warm winter sun which put me into such a reverie. You probably want to hear about the ghostly noises in the walls of my home now, don’t you?
Well, I was inside reading and Bill was out in the yard; it was the first spring like day we have had in months, and the house was especially quiet. Exceptionally quiet. Usually there is the low drone of the television or at least a music channel playing softy while I work or read, but that day–nothing–just a blissful quiet throughout the entire house.
About 2 pm, I put my book down after noticing that I had what looked like black dye on my fingers. I felt it must have come from my new jeans and went into the half bath to wash the stains from my fingers. When I turned the water off, the sound of water continued though I checked carefully to see that the faucets were both off. I moved about the house, leaning into walls I knew were most likely plumbed; I checked the laundry room, the master bath. Yes, there was a distinct sound of water in the walls. I went to the kitchen for a glass and laid it and my ear against the bathroom wall upstairs to magnify the sound. Water!
Oh, no! Visions of the hundreds, maybe thousands of dollar bills flying out of my husband’s wallet made me weak. I had to get him inside to identify what this colossal problem might be. “Bill,” I yelled frantically. “Help. Hurry!”
Bill dropped the gas blower onto the concrete drive and rushed in the front door. “What!? Are you O.K.?”
I pulled him by his shirt collar hard into the wall next to our bedroom door. By now the ghostly murmur of water was everywhere. I was terrified. Our house was possessed. “Where’s your phone? You need to call Alan; he has plumbing experience,” Bill gasped.
”Yeah, but does he have experience with Exorcism!” I looked around the room hoping to see my cellphone on a tabletop. No luck. Aha! I remembered tucking it in my back jean’s pocket– an unusual move for me. I pulled the SmartPhone out.
CALM the screen read. The splashing sound of the blue-green waterfall designed to accompany my meditation was the very same sound made by the broken pipes in the walls of my possessed home. Oops.