Photos of a South Carolina Easter

Easter in South Carolina was lovely. Dogwood trees and azaleas were in full bloom.

There were bundles of pine straw–which we don’t do in Wisconsin–and beautiful waxy flowers of which I don’t know the name.

I stayed with my Aunt Mary and Uncle Andy and their four children: Andrea, Heidi, Gilbert, and Erica.

I attended a dress-up party with Andrea and Heidi. I dressed as a CNA, Andrea starred as her lovely self, and Heidi stole the show with her fancy old lady costume.

Here is a local cowboy who also attended the party.

It was wonderful to connect with my friend Julie and her family.

I enjoyed meeting a few of Andy and Mary’s neighbors. Here is Mary with Miss Ann.

Two things I love about the South?

One, its innate courtesy of “yes ma’ams” and “thank you sirs” and “Miss Anns” and “Mr. Korvers.” In my northern community, and especially within my Mennonite circles, everyone–child or bishop, old or young, best friend or distant acquaintance–is addressed by his or her first name. The only exception being a church service, where “Brother Tony” might be introduced as the speaker or the “sisters'” sewing circle announced for Tuesday. Mercifully (in my opinion), this formality is reserved only for church and not carried over into actual conversation. But in the South, the formality of a Miss Ann or a Mr. Korver, spoken with that southern twist of the tongue, holds real charm.

Which brings me to the other thing I love about the South: its dialect. I cannot replicate it, but I can hear its slow glide–or at least the echo of its glide, a memory of a sinuous snaky trail–across the channels of my brain. Miss Ann informed me that “Mary never stops unless she’s sieek,” and this tidbit–that one says sieek instead of sick–is really all I remember of how it is done.

A couple more things we don’t have in the North: Spanish moss dripping from trees (near a Civil War battlefield, not pictured) and roads that have a cobblestone look.

Below: 1. A picture by a post, taken on a Sunday afternoon picnic.

2. Chicks, a few out of the 36,000 chicks that live in a 36,000 square foot chicken house–imagine the mass of white when they are grown!

3. Erica running, pure joy in her face.

4. Me and iced tea, another Southern staple of which I am usually deprived.

And finally, Wisconsin again, barren and brown and chilly in comparison to South Carolina, but always, the home of my heart. And the clouds are beautiful.

No one can complain about the clouds.