Gitcher O’sters Here!

We be WET in Georgia! We’re in Columbus, working a 70 space park that has never had a map. We’ve caught some drain-clogging rain, real downpours, but the temps are mild so we aren’t complaining.

We see signs of spring in the South. The daffodils are up, camellias ready to pop, tulip trees heavy with bloom, and little piles of pine needles everywhere. People are raking up their mulch. The southern pine tree has a long needle and the branches are bushy, in spite of the skinny little no-board tree trunk. They bundle these needles and sell them in nurseries.

The birds are wonderful, very song-ful. We always put the bird feeder up as soon as we get to a park job. Generally, the job takes us two feeders full. Here, however, a full feeder lasts only two days! Lots of Sparrows and a few Cardinals. The little lake at the end of the road hosts a Great Egret.

I’m aware of more differences, the further south we go. By the time we leave here, “lovely” may be stuck in our vocabulary, we hear it so much. People talk a lot slower than we’re used to; I am learning to pace my speech. There are three pages dedicated to pest control in the phone book. The laundry room here is a porch, open air.

Columbus is a big city, too big for us. Downtown is beautifully restored and very charming. It’s a city with a rich heritage and currently celebrating black history month with a lot of style. They have lots of history markers around the city, too small to read from the car, of course, and I have to say it is somewhat offenputting to realize a used car lot is situated on the ground of a small but memorable civil war battle. The Chattahoochee River runs through downtown, separates Georgia and Alabama and has a beautiful long riverwalk.

I sold an ad today to the Ossahatchee Oyster Bar and asked the owner, a gruff old guy who sleeps in his clothes, I know, What’s it mean, Ossahatchee? “It’s a Indi’n name!” he hollered. Well, I figured that, I said, but what’s it mean? “The Indi’ns give the crick that name!” But … I just looked at him, hopefully, I guess. “Means gitcher o’sters here!” he barked. I love this job.

Love to all of you from both of us,

Sam and Dave