My Southern Ayre

 

There is a thing that get's under me every once in a while. When I hear the echos of the killdeer's outside, I think back to those days in Hazzard. Out at our very rural home, long before Internet, and all that, no cable TV, although we tried to get the dumcauff's to stretch a wire from town out there. But I remember walking down to the mailbox, about half a quarter mile to the main road. I'd get about halfway and sit on this old main branch of a Russian Olive tree that had been torched by lightning years ago. I'd sit there with the squirrels, the two bobcats, and yes the killdeers who tended their nests close to that tree branch. The dripping of that overhang of that tree, and such it was indeed peaceful. No matter what was going on with the club, which was founded there in Hazzard in 1982, still, I sat there and drift off, take a euphorian trip to never-never-forever land, and enjoy it. This is what kountry living is all about. It's what I use still as a drug to release my mind and drain my brain of life's pain. 

I'm southern through and through. There is not a bone in my body, that doesn't stiffen when someone insults the south, or Dixie. My blood flows Confederate gray, And if you think just because I live in Idaho, that I'm just yapping like so many on Facebook and such do, that have no idea of things Dixie, your wrong. Montgomery Alabama was founded and set by MY ancestors. Yes, what was the Confederate capital, the place where the Confederate Marines was created, I am southern, My love is Dixie, and I'll forever be Kountry. It is, My Southern Ayre.