Southern Exposure

I used to be amused by people who became snowbirds but find now I am one. It’s been a heartwarming and pain-free culture change. Mine has been better by having several good friends here whose many friends instantly become mine. Many things have made my first winter in southern climes truly enjoyable.

Here when you meet people for the first time instead of asking where you live or where you work, they ask, “Where do you go to church?” Some say this genteel town is like TV’s Mayberry, U.S.A. So far, I agree.

Southern warmth, hospitality, gentility, good manners, Christian spirit, and more are measurable here. My neighbors have brought cookies, quiche, and the best homemade pecan pie I’ve ever eaten—and teach me how to pronounce words with Southern flair. Even Walmart’s staff and clients are modestly dressed, well-behaved, and patient—far different from the frazzled super-centers I try not to frequent up north, especially after dark. In December, clerks and shoppers only said Merry Christmas, not Happy Holidays, and horns don’t even honk in traffic.

This friendly neighborhood is blessedly quiet and peaceful. At night, the back windows of this home face the lovely stained glass windows of a Baptist Church two blocks away with its large white lit cross.

Though it’s not yet officially spring, warm temperatures already make daffodils, forsythia, gardenias, and all fruit trees burst open in beautiful colorful blooms. Here are pear blossoms from my back yard. The pollen count is high but songbirds are singing. I head back north today with wonderful memories to eagerly return come fall seeking more Southern exposure.

Who knows—in time I may even acquire a little genuine Southern drawl.