The south has become my home and honestly, I never tire of traveling throughout it and discovering all the beauty this part of the country has to offer. This is how I describe my adopted home.
Long roads through land unspoiled by concrete or heavy traffic still exists here. In the south, Wisteria hangs from arched branches along the roadways, cicadas sing loudly on humid summer nights. Guitar music and laughter rings under the canopy of dry lightening on summer nights. You can purchase farm fresh produce at the stand where dirt roads intersect. And don’t be surprised when neighbors smile and wave from rockers on front porches.
I can’t help but wonder what its like to grow up in those large antebellum homes in the middle of many acres, surrounded by pastures in which horses graze and farmland is plowed by a farmer on a John Deere tractor. I bet it’s great.
I love this saying on a plaque I placed in my dining room.
The South; where tea is sweet and accents are sweeter; summer starts in April; front porches are wide and words are long; macaroni and cheese is a vegetable; pecan pie is a staple; Y’all is the only proper pronoun; chicken is fried and biscuits come with gravy; everything is darling and someone is always getting their heart blessed.
If you haven’t come yet, I welcome y’all to come and please sit a spell.