“I’m digging those boots,” said a man at the Staunton farmer’s market. My boots (see post “What’s with the boots?”) are still like a siren’s song drawing people to me but hopefully without dashing them to pieces on the rocks. It was too hot to wear them in Georgia and South Carolina and I missed them, but now they’re back!
Driving into Virginia I was struck by the clear air, it was as if I had cleaned off my dirty, smudged glasses and could see crispness again. There were sweet peas growing wild along the rolling-hilled highway, everything green and lush. But something about the atmosphere was welcoming and I embraced the feeling of coming home. Continue reading