Back on the mainland

The airport is a zoo.

We have hours to spare before our flight so we buy our way into the United Lounge and loll about drinking minestrone and reading before we file onto the flight.

It is a good flight. Turbulence is expected but it is not too bad. The air beds are the best I have encountered in my extremely limited experience. I am pathetically grateful. I actually sleep some. I have always liked United, I like them again.

We land in Houston and have to change planes for Atlanta. It is early so the place is not too hectic. But, oh, my, it is a whole new world in airports. There are iPads everywhere. There are huge lounges of computer desks with screens. The bars all have screens lined up on them. Order your

food and drinks by touch pad? This is screen city in lounge after lounge. It is Orwellian.

Atlanta, of course, is another zoo. Massive. We take the train to the car rental. The wait is not too long. There are lots of Jeeps lined up for rent but, at the very end, we spot a Rogue. We had an olive green Nissan Rogue on our epic road trip and loved it. Oh yes. We’ll take the silver Rogue.

And off we go through horror which is Atlanta’s roads. This is one of the worst

cities in the world for traffic. We are warned that it will take hours to get through the city and it does.

We are ravenous. Once out the other

side, we stop at a Waffle House for breakfast.They're a very Southern thing. This one is in a very run-down neighbourhood. But inside the Waffle House, the atmosphere is rich with good spirit. The staff is heavenly. The waitress is the sweetest, prettiest and sunniest black girl. The short-order cook is good at his job. The food is fabulous - expertly cooked eggs, crispy hash browns, bottomless coffee.

Ah, America.

It is three hours to the farm in North Georgia. They are hard driving on busy roads - and then we are on the familiar back roads and then…. “our” mountains appear on the horizon and we feel that warm rush of coming home. Bruce has been feeling this since he was a lad. Me? Only 21 years.

And here is the Sautee junction with the Old Sautee Store and the ice cream parlor and the post office and the dirt

track between the pastures up to the old farmhouse.

And here is the barn. Contented cows gaze with mild interest at our arrival.

And here we are.

And here is Aunt Libby.