Sweet Carolina

I'll be honest. For most of my life "the South" has been a mythical place known only through country songs and movies about slavery and plantations and redneck ferocity distilled by female gentility and bourbon. There are lots of us non-Southerners that are truly afraid of the South. We don't get the whole confederate flag thing, nor seersucker suits and bow ties. Your accents and debutant balls, grits and greens are perplexing and I feel like a deer in headlights when I am called a Yankee or a Northerner. I was born and bred west of the Rockies and have no sense of where the Mason-Dixon line begins and ends. But I decided to expand my horizons this weekend and spend a few days visiting friends and camping in the mountains of North Carolina.

What a beautiful place.



The pictures do not capture it, but I was immediately smitten with the rolling hills, the red-clay soil, and the magnolia trees that perfume the air. Stereotypes were fulfilled left and right as I was warmly welcomed with a slow, sweet drawl everywhere I went. Do you know that in many circles the CIVIL WAR is referred to as "The War of Northern Aggression" (by the way, the word "war" is two syllables here)?! Years of unpleasantness in which the government infringed upon States rights. Yikes.

I was in the heart of the Bible belt and was amused (and incredulous) at the number of conversations amongst strangers that involved "the Lord." Spent a couple of days camping in the mountains Northwest of Raleigh and visited Winston-Salem (yes, the cigarettes) and Chapel Hill (UNC). My friend Clark and I hiked and played in mountain streams and swimming holes, studied trout and toads and snakes, and hung out in hammocks under a perfect Carolina blue sky. I especially loved that our food included brie, pepper jelly and homemade bread. This is my kind of camping.

I am feeling relaxed and refreshed and wonder why I don't do things like this more often? Lovely.

Thank you for your hospitality, friends!