That dang walk through the asters, milkweed, and black-eyed Susans at a butterfly garden in a well-shaded, river-hugging park got me. Minutes later, I was ordering 20 seed packets with the touch of my thumb—shipped from a nearby nursery. The bees, the hummingbirds, the large, flitting butterflies had me transfixed. Their gentle, floating ways were something I hoped to invite more of onto our property.
In searching for the park’s name, I ended up falling down a rabbit hole of links about Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter’s butterfly gardens in their hometown of Plains, Georgia. Both were born and raised there, and a quick Google Maps search shows it’s just over an hour away. I’ll be darned—a news article said the park where they’re buried just opened to the public yesterday. It includes the house Jimmy built in 1960 that they lived in throughout their marriage and old age, the pond where they fished, and of course, the gardens. That just became an up-and-coming goal for me.
My parents booked flights for October. It’s a six-nighter this time, which feels like a perfect window for more Southern sleuthing and scouting.
You guys—I’m out of steam tonight. I’d like to chill a bit before bed.
Thanks for being here.
Love,
Jaclynn
Going On 40 