I Think I Am Beginning to Like Living In the South

I think I am actually coming to like living in the South? I never thought I’d be typing that sentence, even with a question mark at the end of it, but it feels true now. I love our little house. I feel at home here already even though we aren’t quite finished unpacking. I’m beginning to just barely know my way when driving around this little city (i.e. how to get to Target and back lol). There is a slower pace to things here. I know it’s a terrible cliche to say that about a place but it’s true. Even between Birmingham and Montgomery, only 2 hours apart (and I’m a slow driver) and in the same state, I notice a change in the speed of day-to-day existence.

Top picture (13/365): Edward being a sweetheart, putting some shelves together for me to go in my artist studio room two days ago even though he did not feel like it. I haven’t finished putting things on them quite yet because yesterday I felt sick, like I was coming down with something, and the day before that just extremely tired. I feel normal again right now so I don’t know what’s going on.

Pictures below (14/365): Two shots from our backyard – a cameo by Sam in one of them. We have a Saint Bernard in the yard next to us (we know this because we stand on chairs and look over the fence to see what kind of dog we hear over there) and Sam spends a lot of time trying to get to know him or her through the fence via his nose. There is ivy coming over the fence and a magnolia tree in the neighboring yard that dips branches into ours. It has all kinds of giant white buds on it and a few large blooms already. I can’t wait to see it in full swing sometime soon.

I get a bag of Southern native wildflower seeds meant to cover 1,000 square feet of space and spread them in the little areas en face de le front porch (maybe 30-40 square feet) – all of them – so something might grow there. It hasn’t rained yet even though it’s been on the forecast everyday since the day after we moved in so I may have to do it again. It’d be too much hassle to try and water that space by hand. I buy a second Boston Fern and hang one on either side of the front porch. They almost match. I plant white zinnias and French marigolds in the little concrete planters there too.

I feel as though, somehow, by moving out of the apartment in which Edward and I were (quite literally) married, we’ve entered into some kind of new phase in our relationship. I’m not sure if it’s just me being a romantic at heart or if I feel a little bit more grown up living in a little rented house instead of an apartment, but something feels different in a good way.

If our landlord will allow it, we want to adopt a third dog in the coming weeks. Sam needs a playmate. Lena does not play with him. Also, I inherited some of my mother’s animal hoarding instincts. On Sunday night, after we finish moving everything in, our doorbell rings and it’s our next-door neighbor bringing us a frozen casserole she made to welcome us to the neighborhood. I know our house’s previous tenant was a veterinarian because he forgot to forward his mail and we still get a lot of it. I keep the American Veterinarian Association magazines because I have no way of knowing where he’s moved to and maybe I can use them in collage. He must have moved out a while ago because the neighbor who brings the casserole mentions that she is very happy that people are renting the place again. Her name is easy to remember because it’s the same as my mother’s.

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