Welcome to my house…

Some people in my life seem to think I travel a lot. I don’t agree. These are also the people who, for the most part, stay put in the corner of the earth in which we have made our lives for perhaps a century or more. Having left the South for graduate school a few years ago, I was afforded the resources to travel for research, conferences, and other opportunities to related to my creative writing. Still, I don’t like flying so traveling is something I don’t do as often as I could.

When I first left Savannah for Atlanta as an eighteen-year-old, I had no idea that the place I’d return to would be different. Or, rather, that I would. Both places were still the South and of the same state, but leaving Savannah to see other places made me realize the culture that it had specifically. The culture that I had inherited and continue to take on intellectually and creatively.

This is the same feeling I had when I left Atlanta for Ann Arbor, Michigan at the age of twenty-three. There was only one option for grits at the grocery store. The color greens were much smaller. If I could find okra, I stocked up. Only once did I find smoked turkey necks. I made up for this by throwing my Southerness everywhere. In every biography I wrote for a presentation, in the food I made, and in my approach and contributions to conversations.

In August 2016, I returned to Atlanta. And even though I’m planning my next venture elsewhere for the next stage in my life, I’m reveling in the southern sun I have missed for so long. I don’t always know where I’ll end up and so much moving causes its own anxiety, but I know I’m going someplace. After all, dream chasers are always lost at some point. I am Nowhere.

This blog is a Southscape, even if it is not always in the South. As I have come to terms with being a wildflower and mover, I realize that the South is wherever I take it. The Nowhere South is that movable place with its own beneficial vantage point.

And so, welcome to my house…

The Living Room where we do our thinking.

The Front Porch where we welcome guests and stories.

The Kitchen were we cook.

The Garden where we grow and show so many things in unknown power.