By Diana Wanamaker
I love the seclusion of the night. The dark, emptiness of the road as I drive to the barn. I stepped outside tonight and there was the pulsating tempo of the crickets, announcing a hot, summer’s night. My mind quickly flashed to a memory of 25 yrs. ago in the Louisiana Bayou country. My beau & I had taken a trip across the states to visit my sister in Mississippi. First stop was in Kentucky, where we camped in a cove of cliffs. We visited Louisiana, where he had once lived. I recalled the long highway that is surrounded by water, driving along the bayou country side, and touring small fishing villages, etc. We ended up in Mississippi where we dined along the Mississippi river, eating collard greens and cornbread. Enjoying the large southern homes with massive pillars and front porches, where rocking chairs lined the veranda’s with ambiance. On the way home we visited the Ohio Caverns to see the colorful formations of the caves.
It was a set of memories I enjoyed recalling, provoked by the crickets song of a summers’ night.
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