Pecan Pie

Today we drove out of wake county to see Momma and Jesse. Their place is just great, and for a city slicker like me it seems to sit on the very edge of the middle of nowhere. As it transpires, everywhere is somewhere and the warm southern hospitality of our hosts makes this house somewhere very special indeed.

Jesse grew up around these parts, on acres of local farm and remembers when the whole area was rural, before the modern houses started to be built in the 60's. Jesse makes the best darn pecan pie I'll ever have. Until a hurricane tore it away the other year, they used to pick the pecans fresh from a tree in the garden.
"Jesse had to fight those squirrels for them nuts"
"Yup. I killed those squirrels."

That really wasn't expected. I wonder if it was a joke.

And Momma was a real pleasure. Such a friendly smile and the most delicate and polite person you could ever hope to meet. Perhaps the only thing broader than the sweeping landscape of Johnston is the warmth and hospitality of those who live there.

While a work of art is a slice of the society it came from, A slice of Pecan Pie from a certain house in Johnston county is a work of art that I'll carry away from NC, and the memory of it is already fond.