I travelled to Mississippi for the first time recently and found myself ensconced in the Victorian home of a beloved friend who had retired to her hometown about a decade earlier. Her house stood proudly atop a rolling green lawn punctuated by pale pink azaleas and the barking, jumping, and nipping of two large juvenile rescue hounds. The exterior of my friend’s place had a perfect wraparound porch. The interior boasted 16-foot ceilings, six fireplaces with colorful ceramic surrounds, and lovely antiques, carpets and paintings. The large country kitchen was the heart of the house, and the two dogs, William and Percy, lounged comfortably within its limits when not outside chasing bees, cars, humans, and any other moving creatures. During my visit, my friend and her loved ones lavished me with Southern hospitality: croquet and dinner parties, supper clubs, meals at historic inns. I met former high school rodeo stars, real life cowboys, special needs children, and a sweet man teetering o
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDelete