Wicked Kudzu
Once again I greet you from a hotel room.
Well, motel, really.
And things are different this time: My suitcase, being filled with clothes instead of research and electronic gear, isn't as heavy as it was last month. (ALL last month.) I am not alone -- Sam and the child are here; Sam is reading a Jonathan Kellerman novel and the child is watching some dreadful dreck on Nickelodeon, way past his bed time. (He can sleep in the car tomorrow.) My clothes are not all black. Indeed, sequins are around here someplace.
We're on our way to South Carolina, where we go every August for a vacation. Shut up! It does too make sense!
We go to the beach, actually. The car is packed with fishing gear, beach umbrellas, and toy sailboats.
At the moment we're just over the border into Virginia. This means that we are in the South -- if we don't want sugar in the iced tea we have to tell the waitress -- but not the Deep South -- the Wicked Kudzu is not yet apparent.
The child and I are very impressed with the Wicked Kudzu, which eats entire Southern forests in about a week. I'm told that if you sit real still you can see it grow. There's a lovely set of disappeared landscapes here; this site also contains extracts from an informative pamphlet from 1928 that helpfully remarks, "Kudzu is not without its disadvantages." My favorites are the disappeared houses. Creepy.
But, no kudzu yet. When we see it, we know we're home.
Later, when we settle in, we think you get pictures, as Sam brought along his camera.
Another difference between the month in England and this trip.
But mostly, no work this week. Also, summer. For sure. Which I did not really have in the rainy grey cool place. But definitely it's summer in South Carolina.
Well, motel, really.
And things are different this time: My suitcase, being filled with clothes instead of research and electronic gear, isn't as heavy as it was last month. (ALL last month.) I am not alone -- Sam and the child are here; Sam is reading a Jonathan Kellerman novel and the child is watching some dreadful dreck on Nickelodeon, way past his bed time. (He can sleep in the car tomorrow.) My clothes are not all black. Indeed, sequins are around here someplace.
We're on our way to South Carolina, where we go every August for a vacation. Shut up! It does too make sense!
We go to the beach, actually. The car is packed with fishing gear, beach umbrellas, and toy sailboats.
At the moment we're just over the border into Virginia. This means that we are in the South -- if we don't want sugar in the iced tea we have to tell the waitress -- but not the Deep South -- the Wicked Kudzu is not yet apparent.
The child and I are very impressed with the Wicked Kudzu, which eats entire Southern forests in about a week. I'm told that if you sit real still you can see it grow. There's a lovely set of disappeared landscapes here; this site also contains extracts from an informative pamphlet from 1928 that helpfully remarks, "Kudzu is not without its disadvantages." My favorites are the disappeared houses. Creepy.
But, no kudzu yet. When we see it, we know we're home.
Later, when we settle in, we think you get pictures, as Sam brought along his camera.
Another difference between the month in England and this trip.
But mostly, no work this week. Also, summer. For sure. Which I did not really have in the rainy grey cool place. But definitely it's summer in South Carolina.
<< Home