That's what the GPS said when we crossed over the Virginia line into the Volunteer State. Well, let me tell you folks... it's been one hell of a welcome.
One expects a period of adjustment when moving south after spending your entire life in one of the thirteen original colonies. But after several months you start coming around to the conclusion that things are in fact different here. I'm not talking about moonshine in mason jars or the air quality - though that is better. No, it's the hip-fire sarcasm and jaded sense of humor northerners come to know and recognize in each other.
For the most part southern hospitality is a real thing but there is something to be said for the gritty, melancholic -if not agitated - attitudes of those living north of the Mason Dixon.
Things do move slower in the south. Much slower. Especially in the DMV. But that's another blog post for another day. We're just getting warmed up. Over the course of this blog, I plan to regale you with the tales of renovating a 10 year old house (no, I didn't miss a zero. 10 as in decade) and eventual farming of the almost 8 acres that came along with it. We may even touch on how to convert that pesky swamp into a picturesque pond.
If you're picking up what I'm putting down so far, you might have an idea of where this blog is going.
Buckle up buttercup. We're in for a bumpy ride!
