Charleston is a town of unique sights (and sites) and smells, textures and tastes. In addition to trying just about everything at the farmer’s market, including dilly beans (did your grandma can dilly beans? Mine did!), hot chow-chow, fried peanuts (shell and all), cheesy grits (not really a fan), pickled okra and about seven different kinds of candied pecans. Oh. And donuts. A lot of them.
Monday morning, I got up early to watch the sunrise and walk around the city by myself. I stopped and read every single sign–Charleston is a town of historic markers if I have ever seen one. It made my historian heart happy (and of course I was intrigued at how the city’s history is publicly interpreted, particularly that thing called the Civil War and slavery in general. Not so much interpretation, it turns out, on the street.) I think I hear my baby crying–she is still mad at us for leaving, if one that little can hold a grudge. I’ll leave you with pictures from my morning stroll