WE LIVE HERE
the view from here
Georgia
G
WRITTEN BY RIC MANDES
Georgia is a special place. A ride home at midnight through the back roads of South Georgia... You put it on “cruise.” You find a station that plays Willie. And you lean back with a solid moon, filling long stretches of fields in their winter’s sleep. I move through small towns --- Guyton, Egypt. Colonial homes are guarded by tall sentinel pines. Orchards of pecan trees embrace the night. To my right, in ballet pose, are frolicking fawns. They have been grazing on the edge of the woods. Darkness offers them contentment. Quiet complements their chorus. This venture for them is fun. I chose not to understand how any one of them can fill a gunsight and be brought “to earth.” In the distance, a night train crossing the road initiates red lights blinking. I watch the “wagons” roar by, coming from someplace I don’t know. Headed for somewhere I don’t know. But at this very minute, in the night of South Georgia, we are companions. I move further. I pass mobile homes tucked into pastoral corners of God’s earth. I know in the spring this corner comes alive with the corsage beauty of wisteria, of azaleas, of dogwoods. Tonight it is lighted gently by moonbeams. And it is beautiful. This is Georgia Land. 60 statesboromagazine.com
September/October 2020
Asleep in these homes gracing my country arcade are the folks who will rise early, very Southern, and who will slip quietly outside while children remain in that easy cache of slumber. They will walk to the edge of the road and look both ways. They will take in the frost-covered earth. They’ll notice a different car sitting at a neighbor’s house. “Might be Joe’s son in for a day or two. He’s been expecting him anytime now.” Soon, the aroma of coffee will fill the kitchen. Maybe a fire in a pot-bellied stove will roar warmth. Soon, children will be awakened gently --- “Time for school. You have thirty minutes before the bus comes. So get a move on.” I glide into another hamlet. A rent-a-sign’s glow is the only thing alive. It says, “We now have videos at Jimmy’s.” A few miles into town I see Jimmy’s. It is a service station. The final minutes are filled with the moon again bouncing off trees and scattering patterns across the road. I drive through those patterns as a pilot moves his craft through thin graceful clouds. I feel bathed and good. Soon the lights of my town blink far down the road. Willie is singing “Angels Flying too Close to the Ground.” This Georgia Land is special. These Georgia folk are quite special. I have experienced the beauty of being alone, with my thoughts, back roads, the moon, and Willie..... S
