Just when I thought spring was definitely here to stay, sneaky old March threw me a curveball this week. If seasons could talk, I would imagine winter might say, “Hold your horses there, cowboy, cuz I ain’t done with your skinny butt yet!”
It seems that every time I write about the good ol’ days here in the Lowcountry, I sure do get a lot of emails and phone calls. Many come from old-timers but, oddly enough, newbies to our area love to hear what it used to be like around these parts.
I took a few minutes Googling sayings that centered on the word “mood.” Needless to say, there were thousands of quotes regarding moods. Good moods, bad moods, blah moods, upbeat moods — the list just went on and on.
I don’t know about y’all, but whenever someone says, “I have good news and bad news, which do you want to hear first?” I almost always go for the bad news first because I would rather end up on a high note.
If you missed my column last week, I admitted that I had become boring in my writing. That said, I rambled on about conversations I had with a pileated woodpecker and an owl. Since then, I have received e-mails and phone calls all asking me the same question: “What drug were you on when you wrote that?”
I don’t know about you but, boy, am I ready to forget about raking up debris, chainsawing trees and all the other chores Hurricane Matthew left on my to-do list. Not a day goes by that someone doesn’t walk up to me and ask, “How is the fishing?” or, “Are the shrimp still around?”
I guess the only logical place to start is at the beginning. In my 60 years here, the only time I ever evacuated was during Hurricane David — and that was a mistake. It came right up the Savannah River, and where was I? On the seventh floor of the Desoto Hilton in Savannah, watching the plate-glass doors in my room bend in and out.