The week after Easter Hubs and I took a little getaway to a part of America I’ve never been, the Carolinas.
After a quick flight we waited almost 3 hours at Charleston airport for our rental car. It was Easter Monday and some golfing event had just finished so the place was simmering with discontent; the rental car agents had their hands tied and graciously we all turned to those around us and voiced our opinions and suggestions to pass the time and channel our irritation in healthy banter.
“We’ll clean the cars ourselves,” someone offered.
“Can we go ahead and fill out the paperwork anyway?”
“Who wants coffee?”
“I’ll grab snacks for the kiddos…”
As time passed we noticed the staff stayed out of the line of fire in their back-office; despite no physical presence executive decisions were being made behind closed doors and gradually we were all sent off, paperwork in hand, to the rental pick-up.
‘Progress,’ we collectively thought…
The huddle of people was just as large and the change in location did nothing to shorten our wait but at least we could see cars and where there were cars there was hope.
Finally our name was shouted from the bottom of the garage, we were unceremoniously handed keys and off we went!
Our airbnb was still expecting us;
There were no billboards dominating the roadsides tempting us to buy something or informing us that there were ER rooms just moments away;
No distractions just miles and miles of trees gracefully setting the slower pace of rural Charleston.
Discreetly hidden behind the tree drop we later found shopping centres, doctor’s offices, restaurants and bars.
The roads demanded a slower speed, no-one was in a hurry;
Our edgy nerves were losing their keenness, our necks relaxed as we enjoyed the pleasant sensation of being dwarfed by the towering moss covered evergreens.
We were met by our most gracious host, who gave us a quick tour and asked if we wanted breakfast every morning?
Without hesitation we wisely nodded our heads!
For four days we had the run of a delightful home carefully restored and decorated with antiques and heirloom pieces of furniture.
Laurel lived on the premises in the back, she had her own quarters and did not come into the front of the house except to make breakfast, while we were showering. The food she made was to die for, hot cross buns, bacon, egg casserole, French toast casserole, fruit and yogurt, juice and always a pot of coffee. No lunch needed for us!
We would chat with her in the evenings over a glass of wine on her lovely porch where we caught sight of deer
and enjoyed the bees buzzing around her wildflower patch.
Situated on John Island we soon learned that this part of the South Carolinas was made up of a series of islands that acted as a buffer for the mainland against the sometimes severe Atlantic weather.
We felt as though we were deep in the southern farmlands when in reality we were just minutes away from the coast. We found out later that rice can be grown in saltwater.
I checked out the walking situation almost immediately wanting to get a feel for the area before the sun went down and was rewarded by a close up of the the Spanish moss clad trees that just don’t photograph well.
You really do have to be in them to experience the ethereal feel of weeping boughs.
Of course there were horses.
A few pastures down
and I instantly felt at home.
Well hello there! My name is Vivienne McNeny.
I am an empty nester exploring life as a Boomer…you could say I'm happily Boomering along!
As a homeschooling Mum I have finally quit the job of role model and mentor to my four children. I do what I want to do, eat when I feel like it, enjoy life with my blue eyed cowboy and clean my house once a month or so whether it needs it or not!
In true English form I write about the emergence of my true identity now that I can no longer hide behind my children as their Mum.
