Wow. Did I just drop off the face of the earth or what?
That's what it felt like. Still does, a bit.
Now it's December and my month of black and whites is over. I felt like it was my baby, and that I let my baby down by not being here. But what else could I do? Life happens. You think you've got those ducks all lined up and then somebody comes along and knocks them all down.
Doesn't matter. The best thing to do is to pick them up and just start lining them back up again.
So, we've left the great and beautiful state of Tennessee and moved back "home" to Georgia, which is decidedly more flat and just a bit less chilly. We're not actually in Atlanta yet, though. We're in a temporary, top secret location. Though the digs are not luxurious, there is something very wonderful to be said for family who respond with an immediate and sincere "yes, of course!" when you call and ask for help. So we've got most of our stuff in storage and R is looking for a job in Atlanta. Then we'll move, yet again(!). V has been a doll, an absolute and total dollbaby. While I have looked around at our temporary home and thought oh my, she is excited that her room came with glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. And who wouldn't be? What's not to love about glow-in-the-dark stars?
I truly, truly enjoyed the month of black and white. I feel like I learned a lot, but we'll see about that, now won't we? Now that I've switched back to color, it's almost shocking to me. I already kind of miss it. I'm thinking I'll make it some sort of annual event.
The move. It rained off and on the whole drive down to Georgia. Here's one of my last shots of Tennessee. Oh, I'm gonna miss me some mountains!
I put V in the car and the two of us took off, bye-bye girls on the go, stopping only once for gas and to pick up some dinner. While V watched cartoons on the DVD player (I thank God for inexpensive portable DVD players), I sang the old Hal Ketchum song "Mama Knows the Highway by Heart" to myself, over and over.
Mama knows the highway by the songs
When she hears a good one, she always sings along
She don't ever worry 'bout what's gone
She says, "Good country music will never steer you wrong"
Being back "home" is a weird thing for me, I won't lie. We haven't lived in Georgia in four years. Things are different in my hometown (which I have a love/hate relationship with). New shops are open, others are closed - or just gone completely, empty lots with the weeds growing up. It's too much for me to think about yet. But the houses. The old houses I love are all here; they're still the same.
The old barns are still being used for something or other.
The tiny, old towns are still in good order.
And, perhaps best of all, you can find boiled peanuts in just about any town out in the country. Goodness gracious, I love boiled peanuts!
Watson's Mill Bridge is still very much the same as it was in 1885.
Old fireplaces still stand in fields among the cows and the horses.
Though hunting's not my thing, it's a good thing that it's somebody's.
I took my camera everywhere with me on the last day of November, hoping to get some good shots, but it just didn't happen. I only took two photos. The first is this old truck that now sits in the yard. Bad picture of a cool, old truck.
And then I took this photo. It's bad, but I like it anyway. It rained here for several days, so everything was gray. These are bales of hay out in the field. I was too slow getting the camera ready and I shot it without checking my settings. Off in the distance it was foggy, which is what I really wanted to capture.
Thanks to all 52 of you who left comments on my last post. Thanks to those who emailed me. It'll take me a while to get caught up, but you'll be hearing from me.
Tomorrow, I'll have a brand new banner (just a few days late), and I plan to get back to the business of life - trying to find my new normal, to smooth the edges of the chaos, to find the reason for things. Am I happy this is all happening? No. But I'm going to be happy anyway. I think that's going to be the best use of my time. And I'm starting to look forward to exploring the area where I live now and seeing it with my camera in a way I never had the chance to before.
Can I get an amen?