We wandered around the city of Charleston by foot and saw the gardens, the river, the grandiose homes. To my delight, I did see women with enormous sun bonnets and men in Seersucker suits. I lamented over the heat (96 every day) and sat on park benches fanning myself with my hand thinking where oh where is my lemonade? Someone pass the smelling salts before I faint!
I took off for a long weekend to Charleston, South Carolina. For a long time, I had this idea that I was going to move there, without ever having been there. I had (and still have) a lot of romantic notions about the South, thanks to Pat Conroy and Margaret Mitchell. I thought (and still think) that everyone must sip their iced tea while sitting out on a veranda all breathless and sighing, I’ll think about that tomorrow.
At the very last minute of our day, we took a detour to find this live oak on John’s Island. I’ve seen various reports of it’s age (anywhere from 400 to 1500 years old) but I could not believe it’s size, the way it sprang from the earth with it’s mutant branches as if it could swallow up the sky. No matter how many times I have watched Scarlett O’Hara turn drapes into dresses, nothing could have prepared me for the Angel Oak. It was such an extraordinary sight.