the South is alive

Grasshopper on Kristi and Bill’s back porch.

Creek outside of Barton Springs – Austin, TX

Grandma’s house – Shreveport, LA

Tree lined avenue – Shreveport, LA

’55 Chevy on family property – Killian, LA

Old Oak on family property – Killian, LA

Dad going nuts about something.

Me making use of a nice kitchen.

Mickey and Squirt on the river.

The Sqirt Perch.

Rain.

Rain.

Backyard view of Blood River on a quiet morning. – Springfield, LA

Green.

Blood River – Louisiana

The Old Oak.

Gentle rolling hills and serene gulf estuaries of Ocean Springs, Mississippi. The psychedelic furls of salty shrimp infested waters intertwined with blonde patches of marsh-grass glowing golden in the morning sun. The lushness of lower Louisiana wetlands. Bright white Egrets juxtaposed against a forest of trees half-covered in lake. Innocent beds of lily pads hide lurking gators. The summer is soaked down here.

Spanish moss and baby ferns ornament age old Live Oaks, while Pecan trees line the sun-soaked avenues as if to keep tradition of a small Southern town intact. Pecans from grandma’s front yard, fried food, sweet iced tea and watermelon dripping from my chin.

Jazz and Blues, Country and Dirty South rap. All the young’ins know the words: “I like my beats down low. And my top laid back.”

My, oh my. I think The South is alive.