Bell Bridge Books

“I found my true being…”

by Augusta Trobaugh

I have always believed that Southern writing is character-driven, rather than being plot-driven. So in this story, I brought together characters (folks!) who were all from different generations, social positions, and race.

I have so much fun watching as these characters drift into each others’ lives and begin interacting with each other in a most completely authentic manner.  At that time, I become an “observer,” rather than a “writer,” because at some time or other in a story, the characters simply take over, and I am left to chuckle at them or to weep for them.

Also, when I was growing up in rural Jefferson County, Georgia, I became fascinated by the many creeks in the area.  In particular, I remember being delighted when, riding in the car with my mother, we crossed the bridge over Boggy Gut Creek.  As a child, I pronounced it “boogie goot,” but my mother corrected me, and I was even more delighted by the real name.

I grew up in Stellaville, Georgia (population 82), and right down at the bottom of the hill  from my home was Brier Creek, where I watched salamanders and minnows and also the antics of several otters.

When the character of Pansy Jordan came to mind, I was impressed by her intention to do as she believed the Lord Jesus Christ had bade her to do: “Get yourself washed clean in the River Jordan.” Such was her strong intent that she changed her name from “Pansy” to “River.”  But when she finally came to realize exactly how far away the real River Jordan was, she consented to be baptized in Jordan Creek.  In that way, my love of Georgia’s numerous creeks was satisfied.

I had a truly blessed childhood, roaming free (usually on horseback) through the rural areas.  I found my true BEING in all of nature – especially the forests and creeks.

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“The Initial Blooming of My Imagination”

by Augusta Trobaugh

During my childhood, a “Swan Place” actually existed. It was a two-storied, unpainted house in Jefferson County, Georgia, set well back from the unpaved road, beyond a cotton field, and protected from road and field dust by many Sassafras and Crepe Myrtle trees.

My great-grandparents, Eliza Ann Narcissus Aldred Connell and Nathan Jerome Connell, lived in that large old house and provided stagecoach drivers, passengers, and horses a haven where they could eat, be refreshed, and spend the night.  The entire second floor was divided into two large bedrooms – one for gentlemen and one for ladies.  From what I have learned, this original “Swan Place” was selected as a rest stop for the stagecoach that ran from Savannah to Augusta.

Because I grew up during an era when children could safely wander around (especially in completely rural areas), I often went to that deserted old house, riding my horse there from my own home about half a mile away.  I had not personally known either of my great-grandparents, but I always felt something of their lives when I was there.  I could imagine my great-grandmother cooking in the detached kitchen (well away from the main house, in fear of kitchen stove fire) – the kitchen sort of a separate little cabin resting on logs and equipped with large iron latches, to which mules could be hitched to pull a burning kitchen well away from the house itself.

In that old house, I dreamed my dreams, inserting my great-grandparents into a story that I made up.

Of course, I didn’t know it at the time, but it was the initial blooming of my imagination.

When I wrote “Swan Place,” I created a much grander home than the old, unpainted house of my childhood, but the feeling of sanctuary was the same,  as was the fanciful thinking I had done there.

It’s a treasured memory!

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