Driving Miss Cheryl

And…. I’m driving. 


La Dee Da Dee Da

Music playing. Wind in my hair.

Almost perfect… except I’m talking to one of the kids on my bluetooth.

“Yes. That sounds fine…. No, I’m not paying for it.”

What the hell is that?

“Mom? Mom! Did you hear me?”

Turning around.

“Yes. I heard. But say it again and speak up.”

One more passssssss.

“What are you doing?” 

What is this place?

“I’m not sure. I’ve think I’ve stumbled on the mother load.”

“The what? Where are you?”

Finding a place to hide the car.

“Somewhere down in the swamps. On my way to that plant nursery we passed last year when we did the airboat thing.”

Chain link fence.

“All the way down there? Is anyone with you?”

Thank God for 4-wheel drive.

“Just Jesus and my Visa.”

No TRESPASSING signs. Whatever.

“Mom, put me on Facetime.”

Finding a point of entry…

“Well, look at this…”

And I’m in…

“Mom! You can not keep breaking and entering! You’re going to get in trouble!” 

Must maintain radio silence, but first…

“Wanna look around with me?”

That door looks ajar.


Good girl…

Do Not Judge Mommy.
Just come along for the ride.

The remains of the
Flemming Plantation


Snapshot in time

Another house on the property.
The Chimney is all that remains of a sugar house.

Overseer’s house

Snapped through a broken window.

on the grounds

Built on top of an ancient Indian burial ground
of oyster shells.

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