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.

Tuesday, June 01, 2010

What's a Holiday?


I found the above pic of an area of Tahiti on the internet some time ago, and yesterday turned it into a watercolor. I like it, so I'm sharing here. Mainly I'm sharing it here because I forgot to pack the camera, (twice!) this weekend. Hence, there are no pictures of the various lakes, mountains, and byways visited over the holiday weekend. A pause, a rememberance, and a mediation were part of my day yesterday. My father's generation was World War II. My generation was Vietnam. My son's generation is Iraq and Afghanistan. Through the generations we should have learned, that freedom is precious and not cheap. There is no security in freedom, and there is no freedom in security. In other words, we can not be secure in our freedom when we give up our freedom for security.

2 comments:

i beati said...

boy you said it !!Funny how we define the generations by our wars .,

not funny ha ha listen I could not find your O blog send me the link..I wanted to write something from this am..sandy

Beneath the Carolina Moon said...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x-CrNlilZho&feature=related