All that’s to say we’ll soon enough be planning a party to celebrate our lovely new site for collecting stories, histories, memories about places all around town. You can see the work-in-progress here, and follow us on Twitter for updates.

Manning on McLendon Ave. told us about the varied neighborhood reception to some Obama yard art he had up in his front yard a few months ago. A few blocks down the road, in a hidden oasis called Mulberry Fields, Tom, Jennifer and Pamela told us about how chickens and goats came to live in their corner of Candler Park.

Out of our serendipitous wanderings this afternoon we decided upon two new series that we hope to launch Echo Atlanta with: a Front Porch series & a Yard Art series. Sound like a fun way to explore the neighborhood to you?

Happy holidays everyone!

From Toni Morrison’s Beloved:

“I was talking about time. It’s so hard for me to believe in it. Some things go, pass on. Some things just stay. I used to think it was my rememory. You know. Some things you forget. Other things you never do. But it’s not. Places, places are still there. If a house burns down, it’s gone, but the place-the picture of it-stays, and not just in my rememory, but out there, in the world. What I remember is a picture floating around out there outside my head. I mean, even if I don’t think it, even if I die, the picture of what I did, or knew, or saw is still out there. Right in the place where it happened.”

“Can other people see it?” asked Denver.

“Oh, yes. Oh, yes, yes, yes. Someday you will be walking down the road and you hear something or see something going on. So clear. And you think it’s you thinking it up. A thought picture. But no. It’s when you bump into a rememory that belongs to somebody else. Where I was before I came here, that place is real. It’s never going away. Even if the whole farm-every tree and grass blade of it dies. The picture is still there and what’s more, if you go there-you who never was there-if you go there and stand in the place where it was, it will happen again; it will be there for you, waiting for you. So, Denver, you can’t never go there. Never. Because even though it’s all over-over and done with-it’s going to always be there waiting for you. That’s how come I had to get all my children out. No matter what.”

“If it’s still there, waiting, that must mean that nothing ever dies.”

Sethe looked right in Denver’s face. “Nothing ever does,” she said.

We’re also going to keep this blog on echoatlanta.com, where we’ll be a bit more informal and write about progress, projects that inspire us, site updates, etc. Thanks for following along with us!