The South Lives Yet

I recently wrote that “our South still exists, and not only in our own hearts; dotted throughout the former Confederacy lie pockets of that Edenic idyll our ancestors fought so bitterly to preserve.” On a spring drive from Columbia, South Carolina to Bentonville, Arkansas through Georgia, Alabama, and Mississippi, God intervened to show me just such a place.

As I entered Alabama, here and there our beloved flag began to appear, lifting my spirits each time I saw one billowing defiantly in the breeze. Aside from this, I have only seen Dixie fly with such frequency in the rural South Carolina community where my mother grew up and in rural Arkansas.

As Alabama gave way to Mississippi, the storm clouds dissipated and their rains ceased. The sun shined brightly, revealing brilliant Alabama pines looming over the most verdant grass I have ever seen, the hills spotted with lush magenta redbud trees; a more magnificent spring scene I have yet to behold.

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