The Village At Indian Springs

10015015_863443537005471_2378826882443039225_o[1]

There are lots of interesting summer getaways across the Southeast, and the southern United States. And though I’ve yet to vacation, or even visit many of them, I have indeed seen my share of resort areas from Florida to West Virginia, from the mountains to the sea. For me, however, a Nature, History, and Native American enthusiast, few hold as much intrigue, as “The Village At Indian Springs.”resortfrontweb[1]

Replete  in early American history, dating from the Pre-Revolutionary, war era, Indian Springs, was held sacred among early Native American tribes from Alabama, to Canada, as well as from Carolina to Mexico. It had its skirmishes in the Civil War as well.

resort4[1]Today, It’s a must-see getaway. A memory making experience one will relive for a lifetime. And, with

The Village At Indian Springs offering everything from clean, comfortable, accommodations, and shopping conveniences, is the perfect place to spend an exciting, fun-filled family vacation. In fact, with nine different “Wedding Venues” to choose from, it’s a great place to start and raise a family.

resort5[1]

Indian Springs is located just minutes from the Butts County, county seat, of Jackson, and I-75. Sort of a “Touch of Country” in the city kind of town, only without all the traffic and noise. There are two nearby state parks, including the oldest state park in America, Indian Springs State Park, and many lakes and falls.resort17[1]

Geographically, Indian Springs sits almost precisely in the center of the state of Georgia.10329930_870873616262463_3928021164402270252_o[1] And, like a scene from a Norman Rockwell painting, sitting wonderfully, quietly, nestled between the rolling hills of southern Appalachia, in the Piedmont area of the state, is a cozy stream valley resort called: “The Village At Indian Springs”

2-778663_844721698877655_314305826_o[1]

“The Village At IndianSpring’s”shops include, but aren’t limited to the  following services, and locales. 

10497024_893285200687971_6660189380044871941_o[1]

Visit The Village At Indian Springs @

 The Village At Indian Springs.Com

Telecaster Light Fandango

As some of you who’ve seen my posts know, I am a sucker for the Fender Telecaster Guitar. Any Telecaster, for that matter, as some of my purchases, and photos reveal.

Thus, as I was rummaging a flea market recently, captivated by a little Tele, apparently abandoned by a child who was advancing either to the real thing, ( as this one is a toy) or, anticipating Santa filling their stockings with a whole new batch of toys for Christmas, I thought, either-way, even if it’s  just a toy it is a Telecaster.

Let’s look over here at the paintings,” my wife said. Okay. I responded, her words reverberating, never quite striking a note of recognition in my preoccupied mind.

Something about this little guitar… I couldn’t put my finger on it, ─ as the look in my wife’s eyes said, “It’s Just a Toy!”

Oh … the monsterish look… the seething teeth snarling at me like Lizzie Borden with  her axe, saying;  ”Get over here before I tear your ears off and ─ “

No, not my wife silly, the Telecaster! Okay, okay, the toy telecaster. It’s still a Telecaster!

Something so familiar, seemingly calling my name had me under its spell, causing me to drift into a dream world. Then I remembered rescuing a guy who said there was a “Monster” hiding in his closet a few years ago. I fearlessly went in after that hideous creature, with its samurai sharp, skull crushing claws, and slithery, serpentine, scaled muscular body, grabbed it around the neck, reared my head back in the classic “Mel Gibson head-butting” position and ─                                                            kissed it like a baby!!!

Almost kissed the guy who sold it to me too, but, I didn’t want him to raise the price for the guitar…

You may remember the one featured here: Obey Propaganda Telecaster .

And, of course, as I stated in the post, the “Obey Propaganda Fender Squire Telecaster ” wasn’t my first choice of paint and graphics, but, just like this little toy ─ it is, after-all a Telecaster.

Suddenly, I awakened from my trance, snatched back to reality, when my wife called out; ” Oh, look at this one.”

I turned, barely making out her shapely form meandering through a double row of lanterns, lamps, and shades, when… the light came on in my head…

I  turned again to my little Telecaster (toy) friend, beaming a whole new tune, knowing exactly how to fit him into the shopping cart, and get him back to my little work shop;  with my wife’s harmonious approval, and ─ well, the rest is ‘Telecaster History”

Guitar Lamp 019Guitar Lamp 021Guitar Lamp 018Guitar Lamp 017Guitar Lamp 016Guitar Lamp 013

Screaming Eagle Dream Catcher

Wut? ─ I made a Fisherman’s “Dream” catcher with a mermaid in the net… it sold…

Screaming Eagle is surely more Native than that… right? Even if it is a 2005 Harley-Davidson “Screaming Eagle” Fat-Boy…

“Ride On “

2005 screaming eagle dream catcher 0102005 screaming eagle dream catcher 0052005 screaming eagle dream catcher 0042005 screaming eagle dream catcher 0032005 screaming eagle dream catcher 005

Wooden Cross Dream Catcher

Some say putting the Cross inside a dream catcher is sacrilege.  I  disagree. There are probably as many legends of which tribal people made the first dream catcher as there are stories of how, and why, they came about. Odds-are, there are probably as many stories throughout Native America of where the idea came from as there are styles of dream catchers.

I enjoy hearing the stories,─ love seeing, ─and making the art. But I seriously doubt even the first person to weave a dream catcher truly believed they would trap bad dreams in the web while allowing only good dreams through the hoop to trickle down the feathers into their sleeping thoughts at night.

And regardless of whether the night air is  filled with flying spirits we know as dreams, or, whether a talking spider gave the secret of dream-weaving to a sweet little old grandma centuries past or not; To me─they are beautiful works of art.

Personally.  I figure someone was sitting by a warm fire, weaving themselves, or their husband, a nice set of  snowshoes for the next days hunt, when one of their children’s blood curdling scream, brought on by a nightmare, pierced the peaceful night ambiance.

They probably ran to the child’s side, snowshoe project in hand, laid it down, and after holding, and consoling the child long enough to calm their senses, picked the hoop back up, began weaving a soothing bed-time story, and realized they were no longer making a shoe… but, a “Dream Catcher

Nighty-night Y’all ─  sleep well now.

Brendas Dream Catcher #2 009Brendas Dream Catcher #2 011Brendas Dream Catcher #2 012Brendas Dream Catcher #2 010Brendas Dream Catcher #2 008

5″ Brass Ring wrapped in dark brown nabbed suede leather, with foiled translucent bead, large turquoise bead, and acryli-turquoise shell bead set in a hand-made wooden cross. Overall length from top of ring to tip of feathers is 12.”

Geronimo Meets Jules Verne

I’ve always dabbled in crafting, and molding Indian/Native American art. Steampunk is another genre I love, although I’ve only attempted a few pieces in that area thus far. And to be honest I don’t have the time, tools─or,  probably talent… to create something in that line that would even come close to duplicating the finished products I visualize so for now I’ll stick to what comes natural.

So while making a dream catcher it suddenly hit me like a tomahawk shot from a Victorian era submarine’s torpedo shoot─

And why not? Here it is: “Geronimo meets Jules Verne”

SteamPunk Dream Catcher 010SteamPunk Dream Catcher 001SteamPunk Dream Catcher 003SteamPunk Dream Catcher 005SteamPunk Dream Catcher 007

Gator-Snake

I’m not sure that’s what I am calling this piece; “gator-snake”─Okay.. yeah, that’s it.. Gator-Snake. The Gator ate my good camera… Anyway, doesn’t really matter what I choose to call it, as I made it for my brother – in – law.  And of course, like any other pet we give away, regardless of which “PooKie,”  “Pig-Tank, “Fluff-Monkey,” or, “Pablo,” nick we may have assigned to it─ the recipient has the prerogative to name  change it.

My brother-in-law may just call it trash, but, I call it -Art… Well, not “Art” as the name Art…oh, never mind..

Merry Christmas Art…erm, I mean.. Pat.. Merry Christmas Brother Pat…

gater-snake 005gater-snake 001gater-snake 003gater-snake 006gater-snake 011gater-snake 013gater-snake 009gater-snake 013

Native American Art

I’ve been a little too busy in other areas to do any writing to speak of.  Or, to post as it were… So I thought I’d take a moment to put one of my little art work pieces up for display. This particular piece is a talking stick with dream catcher, inspired, as always by the trees that produced the canvas bark, and vine.

I don’t really consider myself to be an artist, rather… an imitator of art, as that is my position, and response to the age old question  ─  “Does life imitate art, or art imitate life?”..  To me God’s creation, and its awe-inspiring beauty is the art, and the “Muses.” So, yes, in my opinion life imitates art. 

As I walked  a creek bank on a wooded lot, soon to become the site of a friends new home, my thoughts were instinctively taken to a prime example of this perspective.

Although dozens of  roots, Cyprus knees, and vines withered and weaved foliage, trees, and girdled sheaves into one quintessential masterpiece before me, my eyes were immediately charmed by the one little limb from which I later carved the “talking stick.”

Just as the woody vine  slithered onto this little Basswood limb, choking out its life, we, humans, who need wood, and places to live also move in and uproot plant and animal life at times.

But, just as the Basswood limb gave its life to support and sustain the vine ─the  natural coppicing by the vine caused new saplings to writhe and sprout above the little limb on the Basswood tree, seeking life from the sun to one day produce even more seeds and life giving pollen.

Similarly,  my friend’s present home and lot, after 25 years of clearing, re-planting,  and devoted maintenance and prune, leaves  a wonderfully warm, life sustaining flower of an image in the sun.

Thereto, plants still grow, and the wind continues to blow inspiration through the reeds, and vines of our hearts, and minds. Once again, the master sculptor’s chisel chips away chaff to reveal another wonderful work of art hidden deep within the block of wood.

Yet ─ the mallet is not swung by the master sculptor this time ─ but by the hands of one of his many pieces of work, striving to imitate His mastery.

walking stick 1 007walking stick 1 010walking stick 1 011walking stick 1 012walking stick 1 016walking stick 1 013walking stick 1 013

Unfortunately, after writing this ─ whoops,  I  remembered I no longer have the item to take any good pictures of… Not that I have a good camera to take them with at this time anyway… but,  I did get a few snaps of it with my little Kodak easy-share, with (broken monitor screen,) while I still had it… I apologize for the poor quality of the images, and hope (by clicking individual images) you can at least faintly make out the carvings of the snake, evil spirit, fish herring, and most intricate, painstaking time thief, our friend the bear. Incidentally, the bust/silhouette of the viking/mountain-man character is a natural bonus of the wood, or, by-product of my carving the bear out of his chin, which even I didn’t notice until viewing these pics again..

( I decided to gift the talking stick to my friend and his wife as a house warming from their own land )

( Coming Soon) 19th century E. Ingraham Clock ( Time Sender Time Machine) steampunk art project