A Southern belle is our house guest this week and I’m afraid I’ve fallen under the spell of her gentle charms. I watch her every move and last night I noticed the way the evening light radiates about her porcelain features, as if the light too is infatuated by her. Our guest’s name is Magnolia and I can’t help affecting a way of drawling and fawning when I, with some great effort, get up the courage to address her. I'm fully aware that I sound like the wimpy Ashley Wilkes character in "Gone with the Wind."
“Magnawlia Honey,” I say, “let’s pause a bit in the shade of that-ol-tree-over-yonder.
“I got my camera right here, and you look purty as a picture, Darlin.’
