December 19 Car ride. What did you see? How did it smell? Did you eat anything as you drove there? Who were you with? #best09

Another one of these ex stories, I think it’s actually helping me to get it all out.
It’s a good way for me to say goodbye and close the chapter.

Sometime in January/February (I’m so bad with remembering dates!) I was visiting R in New Jersey, and we decided to drive together down to Ft. Benning in Georgia, he had an officer class. The best part is we planned quite a few days for the trip so we could not be rushed and sight-see a bit. Also, I can’t drive manual worth crap, so I got to be a passenger the entire time. :)

On the first night of driving, we stopped in Charleston, South Carolina. Not only was I instantly in love with this beautiful southern city, but I had a BIG surprise the next morning when we were leaving.

We started driving down a little dirt road in the middle of nowhere, and all of a sudden, I saw a little hand painted wooden sign with an arrow that said, “Angel Oak”.

He took me to Angel Oak! I have obsessed over this tree since I was a very little girl. This was one of the things I have always wanted to go and see before I die.

From Wiki:

“The Angel Oak is thought to be one of the oldest living organisms east of the Mississippi River.Angel Oak stands on part of Abraham Waight’s 1717 land grant.The oak derives its name from the Angel estate, although local folklore told of stories of ghosts of former slaves would appear as angels around the tree. The tree has become a significant tourist attraction.

It has survived countless hurricanes, floods, earthquakes, and human interference. Angel Oak was damaged severely during Hurricane Hugo in 1989 but has since recovered.

Acorns from the Angel Oak have grown to produce authentic direct-offspring trees. Live oaks generally remain short in proportion to their outward growth.”


You have to see the FULL SIZE picture!

This is also the trip where I found out South Of The Border is by far the shittiest tourist attraction ever.

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