This is a portal to the various current and previously published web productions by retired physician W. Lorraine Watkins, a current resident of the mountain foothills of North Georgia,
The linked web pages and websites include Fireflies and Bonfires, observations and opinion of current events and life, Fireflies and Bonfires., Contemporaneous and past creations, diaries and memoirs are contained in Mountain Diary. Prairie Tree is a narrative history of the New England Watkins family. (first published on a domain purchased the second day private domains became available to the public.) The just now being built history of American feminism, The Feminist Path. will contain some new and some material previously published by the authors. There is also a website devoted to Morning Worship of previously published as a daily diary. All websites, save the latter, are in various phases of restoration and creation. One hopes visitors will bear with frustrations as the processes of reconstruction go forward toward. Graphics created by and photographs, videos taken by the author are given priority over outside sources for illustration. In fact the image at the head of this weblog was taken by the author one day on the way from her lakeside home to the grocery store.
A semi-rural environment provides a particular intimacy with the aesthetic banquet of nature and its cycle of seasons, flourishing life and harvest to death that bears the promise of restoration. The influence of external events, public and to person display their impact the context of this long held centering belief. More description of this is found in the introduction of The Mountain Diary. It’s evolution is especially evident in the daily diaries originally published as Morning Worship.
On most of my websites one finds a leitmotif of the seasons. In my once profession of Child Psychiatry we recognized that the best ally our healing efforts have is normal development. Organic change as in normal maturation or the cycle of the seasons imposes on the planet’s living creatures imperatives that can be relied on to bring joy and awe and what is necessary for the next day. All that is required is to be aware.
In appreciation of the specter of unhappy truths and riddles awaiting confrontation, I know I am no different than many who endeavor to re-enact those periods of life demanding only absorption with self. I unashamedly acknowledge such preoccupation with the “salad days” of past summers. It serves my purposes so admirably