Tracy Being Cheap for the Win Again

Tracy hates to pay for a place to stay when we’re stoping for just one night, and I don’t blame him, but it’s pretty funny the lengths he’ll go. 

Last night we found ourselves driving down a narrow, red-clay path in the woods in rural Georgia, wondering what the heck. We pulled over at a wildlife management check station, which, as far as I can tell, is where people take their animals they just killed to get the wildlife department to measure them. 

Tracy scared the socks off of some poor young lady in the back barn who’s staying there to do turkey research and didn’t expect anyone to come walking up.  She texted the wildlife department guy about where we could park, and he told us to drive down the way to the hunt camp.

Which is basically a clearing in the woods where guys camp to, you guessed it, hunt. It’s not any season now, but the amount of deer bones around the area attests to what a popular place it is usually.  What a peaceful night we spent by ourselves in the woods, and, to Tracy’s delight, for free. 

We’ve been enjoying driving the back roads of Georgia. Dogwoods are blooming so fiercely that Tracy keeps thinking he’s seeing a white house in the woods. The wisteria is so big in places it’s like a purple blanket fallen from heaven.

We pass a ton of roadside stands not ready yet for produce, but one advertised famous frog jam, which I thought, ewww. Then I googled it and learned it’s figs, raspberries, oranges, ginger.  Wish we’d stopped!  

We pass huge old pecan groves and pine tree farms where they bale the fallen pine tags and call it pine straw. I’ve got my eyes peeled for boiled peanuts, although I know traditionally that’s a fall treat. Do people keep with tradition these days? In rural Georgia they probably do. 

Edited to add crappy shots from the truck of wisteria and not-dogwood for Rivergirl. What a grey day!