We saw Lulu’s house, or where it was once upon a time. M. and I drove far, far out into the country (I am such an urban girl. This was, by odometer, fewer than ten miles from town, and oh, was it beautiful, but it was silent and far and green and was populated by cows and horses and sheep and vehicles with really tall tires) and then we stood in front of a gate that was at the confluence of road W and road S, and holding up a photo of the by-then dilapadated house (burned to the ground forty some years ago), we identified the site. For sure. Thanks to a topo map and some notes given to me months ago by a kind person. Or else we’d still be driving around up there. Where the hills, to me, have eyes.
Oh, and then we climbed the gate, which it turned out we did not need to have done. Urban, again.
I read that night, people enjoyed, I heard great stories from folks whose great-grands experienced the Georgia Wonder first hand. And then M & I went off in the dark again, over the hills and far away, to S & P’s for a great late-night dinner and lots of talk and really nice cats and a dog and some sleep.