My earliest memories are of wanting to leave the South. To escape her pain and desperation, her misdirection, her troubled history, which seemed to overshadow her breathtaking beauty, her romance, her mysticism. And so I did. But the South never left me; she trailed me through eleven states and two lifetimes. She knew I would finally embrace what I have always known. And so I have.
The South is magic for me in a way that defies description. It’s cape jasmine by the front porch, screen doors slamming, kids chasing lightning bugs. It’s tall pines and bayous, rambling stories told on front porches after supper. It’s food, traditions, manners and respect for your elders. It is home.