Day 3 in Georgia (July 8, 2010)

I’ve moved quite a bit in my adult life.  I’ve lived in Savannah, GA; Iron Mountain, MI; Reston, VA; Bluffton, SC and in many different towns in northeast Ohio.  Heck, I’ve moved three times in the past year.  But here is one of the reasons that I like the South.

We hadn’t even been in our new house for a full day when there was a knock at the door.  The neighbor from the house behind ours – I soon learned her name was Darlene – was standing on our porch holding a pink flower cutting from a bush in her yard.  She welcomed us to the neighborhood, told my children about another neighbor’s kids, and invited us to swim in her pool whenever we felt like it.  Only when I’ve lived in the South have I had neighbors show up at my door bearing “welcome to the neighborhood” gifts.  Not that I’m knocking my Northern neighbors through the years.  For the most part, I’ve never been introduced to those living in my community.  It was as much my fault as theirs.  The exception, of course, was Main Street.  You gals know what I’m talking about.  That was a dysfunctional Andy Griffith neighborhood if there ever was such.

I miss it.