Well, hello there. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, America. A long while since we’ve gotten down and dirty and traveled an expanse other than the I-95 corridor. A while since we’ve flown past cotton fields just starting to brown and jut out their soft fluffy whiteness, through soft old mountains and densely wooded hushed battlefields, across ancient migratory paths and deep silted deltas, sawgrass palmetto swamps with Spanish Moss overhead and small cool rivers gilded in a Miami-pink-and-aqua deco-copper palette sunset with geese reflected in the almost still water, heading to warmth as winter marches ever southward. It’s been too long since we heard your music, your mountain twang, your river strut, your slouching blues, your wealth of sound, as thick as the cicadas still are in October on the dark dirt byways of the Natchez Trace. It’s been a while since I’ve seen your moon from the road, watched it go from a tiny crescent over Appalachia, grand and slow over the big river, and foggy and waxing almost full over the Bywater. And, just as we were gone, now we’re home. The garden needs tending, the leaves are down, wood needs to be stacked, and America, you are here too.
map from here, it’s a very large file size, I’m thinking of maybe having it printed large scale? thoughts tousle at home…
If you don’t know where your polling place is, this foul-mouthed website will tell you where the f* it is. And, it’s been updated for the storm.
States United from here (I want to buy everything in this shop), hipped from the wonderful Reading My Tea Leaves.
Bless this sweet beautiful mess of ours. Bless fields and breezes and fiddleheads. Bless Emmlyou and Bonnie and Willie Nelson and Otis Redding and Elvis. Bless ham biscuits and deviled eggs, lobster rolls and clam shacks, fresh corn and—the great equalizer— fried chicken. Bless lemonade and cold beer and the Shirley Temple. Bless sunsets in the west and sunrises in the east, bless south Texas and south-western Virginia, bless New York City and everything that is not New York, bless the wilds of Maine and the mossy coasts of Georgia, the bounding scrubs of Mississippi and the raucous lush of Louisiana, the eternal flat of Dakota and the abiding rise of the Rockies. And bless California, for foretelling the future and gilding the none-too-distant goldrush Kerouac past. Bless porch swings and hammocks. Bless banjos and fiddles and dive bars and honky tonks. Bless dance parties and side roads, the swimming hole and the alternate route. Bless our mess and forgive us our debts. Bless us, America, and have a happy 4th of July.
Oh, yes, and God bless Andy Griffith.
Images from the incredibly wonderful Lost in America.