The Trip - South Carolina

We made it to Charleston tonight.

Last night we stayed at a state park outside of Atlanta, grateful to find one that wasn't closed for the winter. It had hookups for the motorhome, but no internet, and my cell-phone internet couldn't find a signal, so I went through internet withdrawals until Charleston. But I'm better now.

It rained all day, and when we stopped for a few groceries at a Super Wal-Mart in western South Carolina, I overheard a man greeting his friend.

Man: How do you like the weather?

Friend: Can't get enough of it.

Maybe the drought here is over...

We decided to leave the interstate for a highway through the state, to save about 50 miles. It gave us a chance to see more than just this kind of scenery (in Mississippi):


Instead, we got to see this:


Yes, it was so much better.

There's a primary election going on here in South Carolina. We drove past a fire station with a sign out front that said, "Vote Here," but we declined their invitation.

If the number of signs is any indication of the likely results, the clear winner, hands-down, will be Ron Paul. He has the most signs up. Second place will go to Huckabee, closely followed by Fred Thompson (though one of his signs was suffering under the rain and had folded itself in half so you could only see the "Fred"). Romney, Rudy, and McCain won't be getting any votes.

On the Democrat side, Hillary will get all the votes, because she had one sign. Obama had none.

So that's the South Carolina primary election in a nutshell from someone on the scene. Just watch and see if I'm right...

On the personal side, I saw my first Piggly Wiggly. This is the second (the first one sneaked up on us too fast for us to get a picture), and it's blurry and rain-streaked. But it's mine.


When I was in junior high school, we had to read a short story in English class, and it mentioned a character going to a Piggly Wiggly. I thought the author made up that name, because it was too odd to be believed. But our teacher said, no, it's a real store. Now I have proof. My daughter's going to be thrilled (and will probably want a better photo than this one).

Finally, here is a winter tree.


When we were driving through Texas, I cast aspersions on the stick trees there, but I have to say I've been growing fond of them. As we've covered the miles flanked by groves of leafless trees, I've come to appreciate them.

They stand, suspended in time, between what was and what will come. They spent themselves for three seasons of beauty, and now they wait, catching their breath and gathering strength for spring.

It's a time of well-deserved rest, though some of them still cling to the faded remnants of past glory. And yet it's not an end. It's only a respite, before new efforts must be made to form bud and leaf, flower and fruit. And so they take this time without splendor to let go of the past and turn to what lies ahead, and I don't begrudge them that.

I think I can relate.