Golden Charleston | Crossing the Bridge
Charleston is a place of romance, no doubt about it. Not the kind that only couples can enjoy, definitely, but the heart of it is romantic. To say this is to say not all romance is the kind that takes a man and woman to kiss on a bridge, but the kind that makes the world believe in beauty and wonder.
However, if it is a matter of romantic love, this wouldn't be such a bad place to be all, you know, loverly.
Sans the first kind of romance, there was plenty to spare in the second.
Places like this are where I feel as if already I am in part of Heaven. To look up is to expect the glory of God, but to look around is to live in it. With so many things that are completely wrong in our world I've thought many times that nature does not reflect evil no matter how corrupt and evil the heart of man grows. The essence of nature belongs to God and if man will not praise God than the rocks and trees will. A gnarled and burnt tree in war zone may be completely gone in terms of life and having been destroyed by evil may seem beyond the reach of life. But when we see a new, green plant growing out of the ashes we realize that out of the ashes of war-torn humans there is new life growing from the humility of death and soft hope of resurrection.
In one way or another we are all war-torn victims. We, holding the highest honor of being made in God's image, failed our responsibility and tossed ourselves into an epic struggle of good and evil. We didn't create it, no, but we choose to become part of it. God loves us still, yet how we make Him weep by turning our hearts away from Him. I like to think that those who serve God should pay attention to nature, because here we see unswerving praise to the maker of Heaven and Earth.
However, paying close attention in another way is a good idea in alligator paradise. This is still the fallen version of God's creation.
Gretta snapped this shot of me on the bridge that made me feel southern belle - ish.
She also snapped a picture of Cheryl.
Oh, and here's the lovely photographer herself out from behind the camera, posing with another lovely photographer, Cheryl.
Oh, and don't worry, here is a people-free shot just as a break from all the lovelies-ness. I know you must be overwhelmed by now.
It's hard to describe the effect that meandering around in gardens has on one. I mean, they make you ravenously hungry and totally unreasonable as to any further adventures once the stomach kicks in - it's frightening really. I believe this is the garden where we broke out the dried mango and chowed down. Such an indelicate verb for girls, but thank goodness none of us belonged to the class of girls who only pretend to eat.
Bags and gear on the ground.
What ho! No food left. Well, let's take a selfie then, to commemorate the spot. Cheryl's dad is one of those progressive dad's who buys selfie sticks for his kids, so they can properly document the moment. Hey, it actually works pretty good.
Moment documented, and back to dried mango which has never been a good substitute for substantial food. Since we were still so hungry we decided it was time to say adieu to the plantation and go find something that resembled real food. Apparently hunger trumps beauty. Ah, but this is beautiful too.
This brings me to the end of Part 2, next stop, Rainbow Row.
Magnolia, it's been a pleasure.
All photos unless otherwise noted are by Gretta, at Grettagraphy.