Breath our scents, walk our landscape, hear our melodic dialects, delight in our savory morsels, touch each rich texture, and the southern essence remains a mystery. The ethereal south, unfathomable to the five senses, lives in the heart. If you believe in magic, and can survive the devastating passions of an open heart, just possibly, you stand a chance of living a moment as a southerner. Most people aren't brave enough to be southerners, even the ones that are.

Friday, July 21, 2006

Psalm 62: 1 & 2

Truly my soul waiteth upon God: from him cometh my salvation. He only is my rock and my salvation; he is my defence; I shall not be greatly moved. (Psalm 62: 1 & 2)(KJV)

The pressure cooker has been on here, so I've missed blogging on the blogs. But there's tons of good reading from my fellow Carolinians on the right link list. So I'm off for vacation. I'll post, when I can, as I can from the road, through the coming week. Meanwhile read the links. They're great!

Thanks Mom for the Psalm refrence. You were right..., as usual.

And now, I'm gone fishing off of Cape Fear, still beneath the Carolina moon.

Dread
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