That’s the kinda thing that goes on the Water Tower

I’m a seventh generation native of my home of Franklin County, Alabama.

While I haven’t lived there for a good seven years now, I’m dying to get home. I was always one of those kids who swore up and down as soon as I was old enough I’d book it out and run like crazy. Now that I’m older and have experienced “suburban hell,” I understand the value and importance of living in a small town.

I took so many things back home for granted when I lived there, most notably the vast lakes of the region. “Wanna ride down to the lake?,” was a commonly heard phrase my entire life. When I lived literally 10 minutes from a huge body of water and could go fishing whenever I wanted, I didn’t want to. Now that I live 40 minutes from the nearest water, I’m mad that I can’t go fishing whenever I’d like.

I never thought I’d want to move back, ever. But now I absolutely can’t wait to move home. Until I get there, however, these pictures will have to suffice. Here are some of the wonderful things I miss about my small hometown:

My ggggGrandfather, who is buried next to the K-12 school I attended. Oddly, he is related to me on my Mom’s side, though she actually never lived in the county until she was an adult.

Daniel’s granny’s homemade quilts.

Our drive-in movie theatre – yes, we have one of the few left in Alabama. It’s awesome. The amazing thing is looking at the car tags on a weekend night – people from all over come to see movies here for the experience.

Local restaurants I grew up with, like Catfish Haven. My granny loved Catfish Haven.

Our downtown area – when I was in high school, downtown was THE place to be on Friday and Saturday nights. It has (sadly) since been replaced with the Wal-Mart parking lot.

Our lakes – living minutes away from this and going fishing and swimming all summer long.

My mama’s cooking. Nothing on any menu in the world comes remotely close to this. Thank you Lord that I grew up so blessed with her fabulous cooking. I can only assume she got this gift from my grandfather, who was a chef.

Homegrown vegetables. Here are some peppers my dad was growing at the time. The best are the tomatoes. I always laughed at people who said homegrown was better – until I had to only eat grocery store tomatoes. I take back everything I ever said about homegrown food.

Free-range chickens:

Flag on the front porch of my parent’s farmhouse: