The Saturday Evening Post

So there we were, the farthest South we had ever been, and this is what we wake up to Sunday morning.

Now what? Stop snowing?

Snowmen were falling from heaven unassembled, and so the Morton family took the trouble to assemble them.

Being from Georgia, it was the most snow they had seen in their lives.

Mr. Morton: Where are you from?

Me: Pennsylvania.

Mr. Morton: What part of Georgia is that?!

We left the North Carolinians digging their way out of the snow and headed home.

You didn't think we would go on a trip with the Raines and make it home without stopping somewhere "historical" did you?

They are fortunate enough to have a great-great uncle (buried here) who was the youngest colonel in the Stonewall Brigade. And they have an ancestor who was a princess and one who received love letters from John Wilkes Booth and - and - well, it just isn't fair.

Couldn't have been a better day for graveyard pictures.

Where the flowers go to be cremated.

Conrad and Emma are still, to this day, debating whether George Washington's axe can be George Washington's axe after having the head replaced four times and the handle three. Some things do not end with the trip.

And some things should not end with the trip. I pray that the teaching received that weekend will influence me and others who were there for the rest of our lives.

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Thanks for joining us.

God Bless.

Carmen