Journal



#302 Dunn’s Falls.

It was the perfect kind of Saturday with absolutely nothing on the agenda. When we woke up (VERY late this morning, might I add), Ben suggested we take the convertible for a long ride. He’s never seen Dunn’s Falls near Meridian, so we decided to take old highway 11 and see it. My car was made for driving at 50 miles per hour—which is just what kind of traffic highway 11 was made for too. The weather today felt like a warm bubble bath. We rode with the top down and the heat on (surprising, since Ben is usually so hot natured), and I loved feeling the nip in the air above my waist and the cozy warm draft around my legs and feet. We drove beneath a canopy of hardwoods and pines, and endless blue skies. We passed a resort, long forgotten where mama used to eat Sunday lunch as a child. The abandoned building reminded me of the movie Cars, and I felt a wave of happiness knowing we passed it by on the road less traveled in a car that rolled off the assembly line in that resort’s heyday. I hate the way modernization ruined so many special, beautiful places. Ben and I are somehow stuck living in a past that we never lived in the first place—and I like it that way.

Heading out after lunch. I let Ben drive me around this time.

Stafford Springs Resort. Mama has a postcard of this place from the 1960s tucked away in her keepsakes.
I’m still learning how to tie scarves, so it’s not the cutest but it was necessary with the wind today.
The view above me.
A picture perfect house with a picture perfect yard along highway 11.
Once we were at the falls, it felt like we’d crossed into Tennessee. The river was beautiful—like something from a movie.
Dunn’s Falls
Like something from A River Runs Through It. I expected to see men fly fishing, but no luck.