I have written several posts on our part-time paradise in the North Carolina mountains, but have neglected my true home of the past fifteen years – Savannah, Georgia.  And there is so much beauty in Savannah.

I live on an island on the south side of Savannah and cross a bridge usually four times a day (to yoga and back and to work and back) with these vistas:

I vowed when I first moved here to never take this view for granted and I make an effort on each crossing to appreciate it.  There is always something a little different going on (the position of the sun or moon, dramatic clouds, interesting birds, etc.) that makes it, in my opinion, even more breathtaking.  If I am ending a particularly stressful day, it is this last portion of my journey home when I feel the tension leave me.  It is truly as if the marsh grass soaks it all in (which may explain the sometimes smelly marsh gas – and even that has grown on me and now smells like home).

Have you ever read “The Prince of Tides”?  Pat Conroy is from this area and his writing captures the incredible beauty of the low country and its marshes.

If you had told me twenty years ago that I would end up in the deep south, I would have tried to institutionalize you.  I must give my parents credit for finding this area.  They carefully researched up and down the East Coast to determine where they would retire.   They chose Savannah.  My older brother and his family live in Jacksonville, Florida, which is about two and a half hours south of Savannah.  When I was thinking about leaving the north, I knew that I wanted to be in one of those two places (or, more accurately, near one of the two families), and things fell together rapidly with regard to Savannah.  It was a sign.

Savannah has a fascinating history, including a reputation of being very accepting to differences, or people of diverse backgrounds.  Even though I am a northerner (my husband says that I am a northerner, not a Yankee – something I am still trying to figure out), Savannah and its people welcomed me with open arms.

The War of Northern Aggression (also called the Recent Unpleasantness) is occasionally spoken of – but I have become immune to it and no longer feel the need to point out who won (this may be my keen survivor instinct kicking in).  I have old family chairs that were owned by a relative of mine that was a General in the Union Army.  My former next door neighbor jokingly refused to sit in them at the first dinner party at our house – and then he literally refused to sit in them.  After a few drinks, I finally coaxed him onto one of the chairs, and it promptly broke.  It was the start of a beautiful friendship.

Savannah is one of the few southern cities that did not make the news due to violence during integration in the 1960s.  Malcolm Maclean, the then mayor of Savannah, was given credit for the peaceful process.  Mr. Maclean was also one of the name partners of my law firm.  I was very fortunate that Mr. Maclean was still with the firm when I first moved here and that I was able to hear his stories about that time period.  I love that Savannah has that history of gentleness – and am even more proud to be associated with our law firm due to that connection.

Our office is located in the Historic District of Savannah, which is the area that was considered the city of Savannah at the time of the Civil War.  This downtown neighborhood is filled with eighteenth and nineteenth century architectural gems.  My favorite restaurant, The Olde Pink House, is across the street from our firm and is a prime example of the beautiful Savannah architecture.

I am so grateful and proud to call Savannah home.

I cannot end this post without a picture of Savannah’s Amazing Grace, which is the full name of my angel Gracie.