Imaginative Dispostion, Creative Pleasures

Oh the good ol’ South, my homeland…yes, the land of my birth, is a cornucopia of natural beauty. It was such a delight being home. The weather was terrifically warm and the skies were blue. Daffodils (my favorite flower) were in bloom and my Weeping Willow (my favorite tree) was blowing delicately in the gentle breeze. I say it was a delight being home but a better clarification would be that it was good being in my parents’ home. I have not lived in South Carolina since the summer of 2000. I often go ‘home’ to visit though things feel strangely more foreign with each passing year. My parents’ home, though, will always be familiar…always my home, or at the very least, my home away from home.

The purpose of my trip to South Carolina this time around, however, was not to enjoy the inherent familiarity of home but rather to attend my best friend, Wilbur’s, wedding in Charleston, SC. The wedding was a splendid affair. Everyone was so happy, guest included, and “Amens” were abundant.

Wil was crying before the wedding even began and he had a perma smile etched across his face. After the ceremony we had to leave the chapel and head to the air force base. On the way there I ran into a freak thunderstorm with hail that lasted about 20-30 minutes. It took me forever to find the reception hall with important roads being blocked off for the air show that day and thewaterfall of rain that was beating down on the windshield making it impossible to see much of anything. Eventually I made it to the reception hall. A little wet, and a little tired, but ever so happy to be there and ready to party.

The wedding was not the only thrill of my weekend. Charleston, itself, is filled with many beautiful splendors. My friend Caroline and I toured South Charleston. We took a carriage ride with a horse named Wade, more lovingly known as Swede Wade.

The carriage driver gave us a brief history of the town and pointed out interesting old buildings from the early 1800’s. Caroline and I also toured the Black Market a.k.a. Slave Market which was where the slaves used to do the shopping. Booths run by locals now fill the market with homemade crafts and goodies to lure in tourist and get them to part with their cash. I got into the spirit and bought a cheap postcard, a sweet grass cross with flower, and some very delicious pralines for my mother.

If you head south/east down Market Street you’ll eventually leave the booths behind and run into the harbor where the boats dump their fish, the cruise liners dumps their guests, and tourist dumped their bodies on the benches lining the boardwalk. Caroline and I did just that.

While we were resting three
little boys came along and tried
to get us to give them two
dollars for some roses they were
making out of sweet grass. We
declined and then one little boy
asked if we’d give him two
bucks to do a back flip off the
table. We asked him not to…the
whole visual image of him
splitting his head open on the
concrete came to mind. He did
it anyway. There was no
splitting. The kids then spotted
my camera and wanted to take
pictures with us. So, we came
home with three interesting
shots in the end.

It was such a beautiful day out on the boardwalk that I never wantedto leave. The wind was blowing off the ocean and the air smelled salty. I liked that. Caroline and I were in somewhat of a silly mood so we began taking pictures of ourselves being blown over by the gusty wind.

It tickles me even now to think of that day. (Especially right now when it is snowing outside my Utah apt. window.) But that weekend in Charleston was so much fun. I learned a good many things that day as well, such as, apparently The South Was Right…
Being a SNOB was a good thing in the 1800’s, because it means that you are living Slightly North Of Broad street…not to mention living South Of Broad street (SOB) was also a good location seeing as how it was windier, and they thought the wind would keep the mosquitoes away. Hmm…
And we learned that, as we deemed it, the world’s largest rose blooms on Rutledge street…
All in all a deliciously perfect weekend topped off with visits to the art museums up in D.C. before heading back to Utah. But, I will say, it is nice not to be living out of a suitcase any longer...five nights in five different beds, not my particular favorite. It's good to be home. :)