Grace . . .

We had a chance to go out for supper with Southern friends last night. Backroads is a small cinder block building almost in the middle of nowhere with a cement slab floor. The decor is plain. They are only open Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays from 6 to 9pm. They were busy and the food is homemade goodness. But the best part was that Gil and Kathy reached out their hands to us and Gil said grace before we ate. Haven't done that in such a long time. It was very nice. Took the beautiful ride home with the sun setting over the flatlands.

Today we went for my pecan waffle before setting out for a winding ride on back roads in West Felicianna Parish. Oldest Kiddo showed us the roads he bikes on with friends when they get together. They are wild, woolly, narrow, charming roads. And . . . we ended up on the shores of the mighty Mississippi. The waters were very low and I guess it was about a mile across. Took off my shoes and socks and waded in. There's something comforting yet awe inspiring about Old Man River. When in flood stage it has to be more than  two or three miles across.  There is no contending with its mighty force.

We have visited the Bluebonnet Swamp in Baton Rouge this week and the Art and Science Museum. Everything here is just the perfect size for me. I have been overwhelmed at museums in New York, Chicago or Boston but in this slower paced southern life I find myself appreciating the easy going attitudes of the people, their cities, towns and parishes.