Catfish, hush puppies and corncobs!

    
       I think it’s the summer heat.  The Georgia climate isn’t as congenial as the one I grew up with in Florida.  I liken the differences of the two states to making a meal, under separate circumstances.  

     The Peach State in summer is a campout, with a sweltering hot sun,  beating down on you from a cloudless, clear blue sky.  Once the Indian Summer of its spring .. with it’s cool, chilling mornings that grow to become pleasant afternoons with moderate highs, before returning to 60 degree nights, inviting open windows and a cover of some kind ..  once that has passed;  the climate turns feverish and dry, yielding few opportunities to prance or possess a puddle of your own.   Instead, when you receive a welcomed rain, it’s a flood .. that stifles and stops you, while it places you in a predicament, on the horns of a dilemma.  Do you want a green lawn and a full thriving lake, to swim and fish in, for your enjoyment this summer?  Or do you want a dry season with a lawn as brown as your tan and the knowledge that you can escape the ‘hell’ of it, with a tank of gas ..  and court bathers near the sea, with a pitcher of beer to wet the inner landscape. 
    
     A GEORGIA summer is toiling over the open fire of the campsite.  Sweating and settling on your lightest clothing to flip your meals in a piping hot skillet, for this state ‘frys’ it’s food and batters it’s meat.  Corn, salt and bitter greens are standards at reunions.  The fatter the better!
Whether in Atlanta, Savannah or Valdosta .. it’s hard to tell one family from another by looking at their menu.  Iced tea and Lemonade rule the day, in quart containers for everyone!  Catfish, hush puppies and corn cobs!  ‘Calm and git it!  Soup’s on!!’ .. ding! ding! ding! ding!

     Shining necks and forearms, display the heat of the meet, while bulging bodies hide, wrapped in sticky shirts, with wrinkle free fronts and print dresses.  The men wait for the women of the clan to gather the food on large platters, in deep bowls with broad handles  protruding, as steam rises from the ‘vittles’ to be wisked away by a brief passing breeze.     Shorts are worn to cool white legs .. pillars ..  of varying thickness, that stop at the knee and disappear above the ankle, in a crumpled, white crew sock, buried in a work shoe.  Laughter is loud and lips are for gossip and family lore, when engaged to the ‘clank’ of a thrown horseshoe at an iron post pounded firmly in place. It’s a rural state, with a strong social eye in the center of it ..
The capital, Atlanta.

            .. to be continued.