Southern Nights
My road trip from the Southwest to the South took me through 6 states and dropped me lightly into the city of Savannah.
Being back in the South after almost a year is a whole vibe.
The bugs greeted me with great glee, making up for the bites I didn't get while gone, as I only saw two mosquitoes in Albuquerque all of last summer.
I had forgotten that “Have a blessed day” is a parting phrase in the Southern U.S. and not so much out West.
When visiting the Robert Johnson Blues Museum in Crystal Springs, Mississippi (about 3 hours below Memphis), I was met at the door by a city employee named Brenda, who seemed delighted to see me although we’d never met before. She informed me with a smile, “I’m so proud you stopped by.”
This curious use of “proud” in the Deep South has nothing to do with Southern Pride and its conflicted significance, but is another way of saying “I’m so glad to see you.” It’s a phrase more of my Mississippi mother’s generation than my own, but you still hear it on occasion.
Rolling onto the Mississippi Gulf Coast I had an experience in ascension when I finally got my hands on an oyster po-boy ("dressed and pressed") and some gumbo. I would have paid anything and almost wept with gratitude when served.
A few days in Florida with friends who have a lovely house on the marsh with a winding waterway gave me time to adjust to the time change and notice how the light and sea level oxygen hits different in the Deep South.
Up to Savannah to reconnoiter with fellow workers in song for my job at the Savannah Music Festival for the next month. Overjoyed to see them again.
A few cocktails. More oysters.
The Spanish Moss on the trees here ("witches hair" in Louisiana) sways lazily in breezes that are still cool, as the hot weather season isn't quite upon us yet.
Nights are loud in the South.
Bullfrogs, various other toads, bugs, and sometimes cicadas, start their noisy night song as soon as daylight dims. In contrast, it's eerily quiet after dark in the high desert, except for the coyotes, who sing their own song at dusk -- and I love to hear it -- but it took some getting used to. One silent night in New Mexico I leaned out an open window and asked "Where my bullfrogs at?"
They're here. That's where they're at.
They didn't notice that I was gone. But I did.
I always love hearing your description of your experiences ❤️ Always look forward to hearing from you!