Maybe my fierce feening for Fall is residual from our weekend in Atlanta in the beginning of October. We saw orange leaves! I was rather disappointed by the food, but severe limits on time and ATL’s Pride parade taking over the streets of downtown just didn’t let us do as much gastronomical explorations as I had hoped. (Chick Fil-A was our first meal, though. That may be the only time I’ve ordered from a fast food chain that isn’t open on Sundays.) Lots of sights sparked memories of wandering through Seattle, San Francisco, and Oakland from what I saw of our driving tour, but it was the rural elements that reminded me I wasn’t in a metropolitan coastal city anymore. (And the super religious billboards posted outside of an appliance store.)
Visiting Stone Mountain was something else. Bill and I headed for Stone Mountain, Georgia for his high school friend’s wedding. (He had a time warp which totally amuses me. Current GF in the same room as his high school GF? Teeheehee!) Up until the week of the flight, all I knew about Stone Mountain, Georgia was what 30 Rock told me: earnest and eager-to-please NBC page Kenneth Parcell’s hometown, a hickville populated with rednecks, and questionable fast food joints that serve “chuckle.”
I did some really basic research on the town and learned that SM is a near diametric opposite of its 30 Rock portrayal. The hometown of former 30 Rock writer, Community actor Donald Glover, Stone Mountain consists of a mostly Black population. (I saw mostly White people throughout the weekend but that’s beside the point.)
Stone Mountain is a beautiful spot for a wedding, though. Amanda and Noah’s wedding was outdoors next to a woody creek. The flowers were the most perfect Autumn-themed arrangements I’d ever seen for a wedding (Sprigs of wheat! Genius!), and their rescued greyhound Doc Furi was the ring bearer.
We hiked Stone Mountain, which is quite literally a mountain entirely made of stone, and it was strongly advised that I not attend the redneck rave in town. (I didn’t.) I hadn’t touched ground in “War of Northern Aggression” land often, so I did get a little bug-eyed every time I saw a Confederate flag. It was a new taste of Americana that my hippie California second generation immigrant self really liked experiencing.
On our last day in the South, Bill and I wandered through Stone Mountain Park. It was like walking through the backdrop of The Headless Horseman.