As I embrace my Southern roots, I tend to think of little ditties to share. Things that perhaps Aunt Lucy or Uncle Willie would have thought as they performed the chores of creating a sustainable existence in Grey Court, South Carolina. Reading these words with a Southern flair, I share the joy of the season. I woke up with these words in my mind….
What is that golden glo
In the sky outside my do’
The chirping, tweeting song
Tho winter’s not gone
Let’s not rush the season
Although Spring is teasin’
Winter, Spring, Summer & Fall
Yep…at the Cottage, I Love Them All
As I anticipate sharing “Passionate About My Roots – History, Heritage and Heirlooms” at Magnolia Plantation, I have imagined how my Great Aunt Lucy would feel as the seasons changed. I often think of how any good Southern woman would embrace this time of the year. How would the fields be prepared and what was the planting plan for the season?
As a single woman farmer and the last surviving daughter of Albert S. Hunter, this was her responsibility. Aunt Lucy demonstrated the characteristics of everything I imagined a woman farmer would be. She took in laundry, babysat the little child across the way, balanced her checking account and did whatever odd jobs she could find to stay afloat. The essence of the typical African-American Southern woman was my Aunt Lucy. Only my Mom, knew how much I wanted to be like my Great Aunt Lucy.
I am a Native Washingtonian. A City made up of people who migrated up from the south for better opportunities. The Southern roots embedded in my DNA, speak to me every time I go into the garden.
Passionate About My roots – History, Heritage and Heirlooms shares what I know of my Southern roots. The roots that have continued to grow as I garden. From how I garden to familiar plants that were on the home site, memories keep me forever in a gardening state of mind. Memories enable me to embrace the beauty that surrounds me each and every day.
Click this link for more information about Magnolia Plantation
We exchanged business cards and I promised to work on my French before I returned. Turning the wrong way, even with directions, I mentally floated on the memories of my visit to a French flower shop. I like to think that the language of flowers is international. The opportunity to chat with a florist who understood this passion was simply amazing. If you are ever in Paris, 
there were, even more, fabrics that made the long journey worth it! The opportunity to touch and feel fabrics that come from some of the better-known design houses is an experience. To afford a remnant is priceless. This year’s bounty included a slice of cashmere, a bit of mohair and a few notions.
Each time I go to Paris there are a few things that I just cannot pass up. Fresh flowers to enhance my daily joy, fabric store excursions, The House of 
and the Eiffel Tower. One day I will muster up the courage to actually enter the House of Chanel and ask to touch the staircase. A dream of my youth that will one day become a reality.