What only a transplanted Yankee knows
So several of my friends from up North rented a house on James Island, South Carolina this week. Of course, I was invited to join them, which I did.
The first day I guided them through downtown Charleston where we visited the farmer’s market (where we purchased, among other things, pecans (please say peh-cahn), peanuts, strawberries, corn, squash and Italian Ice). We got goosebumps when we stopped in front of the now-famous Mother Emanuel AME Church, then strolled down East Bay Street, had lunch at Magnolias (fried green tomatoes and shrimp and grits, mmm…mmm!), and wandered through the Charleston City Market. It was an exhausting day.
Today, some of them headed to Ft. Sumter to soak in a little history, while others went on the Old Village Home, Garden & Art Tour. Tomorrow evening a ghost tour of Old Charleston is on the agenda.
And what I am doing? Sitting back at the house with my feet up looking at this because this is what I come to see and do in Charleston.