My daily life in my adopted hometown just outside of Atlanta. The area here has the unique name of Hog Mountain, which would be more aptly named Hog Hill.
I’ve called myself Southern By Choice, but I’ve been assured by True, Born and Raised Southerners that it doesn’t work like that. I truly envy a drawl, to me it is music.
Here we have city, small towns, mountains, lakes and an ocean not too far away. We have all four seasons. Winter only seems to last a few weeks and it snows for a few days. I couldn’t choose a better home if I tried y’all.
Last week we had an ice storm. Growing up in the Midwest, this storm would be just another spring day. In Northern Georgia, schools were cancelled and many people stayed home. We built a fire in the fireplace and goofed off. No need to get out and shovel, all accumulation would be gone soon. The next morning, we had to run out to run errands in our Georgia fashionable pickup truck. There was a little bit of winter magic left over in the trees.
As predicted by our Southern groundhog, General Beauregard Lee, we should soon be shaking off our slight winter’s chill to enjoy my favorite time of the year: Lake Time.
Ass in the water, toes in the sand.
Plenty of friends to see and people to meet. I enjoy standing around talking to people while standing in waist deep water,
probably possibly drinking a beer and listening to competing stereo speakers with different playlists. Last year the big lake song was “Turn down for What” that blared from the speakers announcing the arrival of a boat called the Tipsy Tiki. It was literally decked out to look like a Tiki Hut. That boat was a bit out of my realm, but it was fun to watch. I was more occupied watching my son play in the sand and water with whichever kid is his new best friend of the day. He is a growing up to be a good lake swimmer.
There are fireworks for every summer holiday and nights with a full moon. I’m sure that if I found a magic lamp on my intimate little Redneck Rivera beach, I’d wish for a pontoon boat. I could carry my own beer, choose to listen to my own Spotify and grill hot dogs on the deck.
The other rite of spring and summer is the commencement of my son’s T-ball season. He had his first scrimmage today and only the second practice. They don’t use the fields here around heavy rain because of damage to the wet grass. Although the games do go on in spite of rain, there is no practice if the temperature falls below 40º. Spring season starts off during chilly short days, but ends just as summer gets rolling.
T-ball is serious business around here with two games per week, as well as practice once or twice a week. My husband usually volunteers as “dugout Mom” which means he keeps the lineup straight when our team is at bat. This is no easy feat considering the players are five and six years old. Fortunately, they are easily bribed with Skittles. Occasionally, the players cry when they are thrown out at first, so dugout Mom has to jump in an comfort
my son the crying player while controlling a dozen kids who are sugar buzzed on Skittles.
There are times when I’m driving around, that I am in wonder of my home. I will be driving out and about and the sheer beauty of Georgia catches me. I love a good vacation, I love to look about and explore new places, but I love to come through the hills and really look at the vista that surrounds me. Who would have ever guessed that a little piece of the divine would settle on a place called Hog Mountain.