If My Mama Saw The Second Picture, She Would Be So Embarrassed
I took this picture when we were outside yesterday...and I promise that while it goes against everything in me to post song lyrics because it just makes me feel like I'm in graduate school all over again and reading too much into EV-E-RY-THING, I have not been able to get this song out of my head for the last two days. So I'm "releasing" it into the interweb. Fare thee well, song-that-repeateth-through-my-brain. Be well. Godspeed.
Plus, in light of our recent discussions about the Indigo Girls, it somehow seems appropriate.
Therefore, I give you "Southland in the Springtime," stanza two:
In georgia nights are softer than a whisper
Beneath a quilt somebody’s mother made by hand
With the farmland like a tapestry
Passed down through generations
And the peach trees stitched across the land...
...And there’s something bout the southland in the springtime
Where the waters flow with confidence and reason
Though I miss her when I’m gone
It won’t ever be too long
Till I’m home again to spend my favorite season
When God made me born a yankee he was teasin’
There’s no place like home and none more pleasin’
Than the southland in the springtime.
There's just nowhere on earth as pretty at this time of year. Nowhere.
And I get that this is sort of a cheat post - since I'm not really having to "say" anything - but we just got home from a meeting at church, and I have an embarrassing amount of laundry that demands my attention.
Wanna see a picture? Okay!
So there you have it. I have gone to church, attended a meeting, and confessed all my dirty laundry, just as Jesus wouldst have me to doeth. Now I'm gonna take my "Holy Ghost power" to the laundry room and immerse, cleanse, and make thine towels new again.
Hallelujah.
Plus, in light of our recent discussions about the Indigo Girls, it somehow seems appropriate.
Therefore, I give you "Southland in the Springtime," stanza two:
In georgia nights are softer than a whisper
Beneath a quilt somebody’s mother made by hand
With the farmland like a tapestry
Passed down through generations
And the peach trees stitched across the land...
...And there’s something bout the southland in the springtime
Where the waters flow with confidence and reason
Though I miss her when I’m gone
It won’t ever be too long
Till I’m home again to spend my favorite season
When God made me born a yankee he was teasin’
There’s no place like home and none more pleasin’
Than the southland in the springtime.
There's just nowhere on earth as pretty at this time of year. Nowhere.
And I get that this is sort of a cheat post - since I'm not really having to "say" anything - but we just got home from a meeting at church, and I have an embarrassing amount of laundry that demands my attention.
Wanna see a picture? Okay!
So there you have it. I have gone to church, attended a meeting, and confessed all my dirty laundry, just as Jesus wouldst have me to doeth. Now I'm gonna take my "Holy Ghost power" to the laundry room and immerse, cleanse, and make thine towels new again.
Hallelujah.
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