Southern Living

You learn to forgive (the South) for its narrow mind and growing pains because it has a huge heart. You forgive the stifling summers because the spring is lush and pastel sprinkled, because winter is merciful and brief, because corn bread and sweet tea and fried chicken are every bit as vital to a Sunday as getting dressed up for church, and because any southerner worth their salt says please and thank you. It's soft air and summer vines, pine woods and fat homegrown tomatoes. It's pulling the fruit right off a peach tree and letting the juice run down your chin. It's a closeted and profound appreciation for our neighbors in Alabama who bear the brunt of the Bubba jokes. The South gets in your blood and nose and skin bone-deep. I am less a part of the South than it is part of me. It's a romantic notion, being overcome by geography. But we are all a little starry-eyed down here. We're Rhett Butler and Scarlett O'Hara and Rosa Parks all at once.” -Amanda Kyle Williams

As much as I love living in California, from time to time, I NEED to return to my roots.  I must leave the freeways and sushi restaurants and sprays tans for a place where people talk a little slower and life is savored on the front porch.  I just returned from a long weekend in Tennessee and I soaked up the humidity and sweet tea and gentle people.  It was exactly what my soul required. 

All photos taken by me at Andrew Jackson's estate, the Hermitage, just outside Nashville. 

1 comment:

  1. Lovely reflection and photos, Pink Frenchie.

    The South is so different from California.
    When I first flew in to Nashville, I loved that the big cases on the baggage turnstyle at the airport did not contain golf clubs like in California but guitars! There's definitely another tempo there, one that is savored.


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