Paradise, thy name is Georgia. In May.
We are spending this week on a 250 acre estate in Georgia. The guesthouse that we are staying in is larger than our house. We are told that everything is larger in the south.
We passed a jeep yesterday that was towing a gargantuan grill. On wheels. Our southern friends didn't seem to find it interesting. I was amazed. And took pictures.
But nature seems indifferent to the activities of mere mortals here. The flora is a force to be reckoned with. To keep a field growing just grass, you have to do more than just cut the grass. You also need to weed out the trees. Like every month! I kid you not. Any spot that isn't looked after really regularly will turn into a tropical forest before you can blink your eyes.
And everything seems to grow here. When I go out for my morning run, every fruit imaginable seems to be growing on the trees by the road. And the aroma of the honwysuckle is intoxicating.
Heaven. I'm in heaven.