The first things I remember are frosty Carolina mornings with a cheery fire crackling in my mama's big black wood cook stove. I remember snowflakes as big as goose feathers and a moon the color of new-made country butter and a night sky like diamonds against black velvet reaching from horizon to horizon. I remember when the biggest problems in my barefoot life were sand spurs and red anthills. I remember sitting with my granddaddy on the front porch and watching the last of that magnificent southern sun bleed away into the twilight sky. I remember Sunday school and kneel at the cross and trying to imagine what God looked like. Sunday dinners, short pants, haircuts, and a little puppy my daddy brought home to me and I remember love. I remember steam puffing, fire breathing, awesome ten-wheel locomotives and the conductor's watch looked as big as one of my grandmother's biscuits. I remember my mother smiling in a red and white checkered dress and Christmas always seemed so far away. Yes, I remember you Carolina, grand old lady of the south, I remember you as home. One of the memories that stays on my mind about an old southern lady that I left behind is a ramshackle bridge where the deep river winds and an old two lane road. Carolina, Carolina, you're hard, but you're hard to forget. I still remember the magnolia nights and goose feather snowflakes in the gray morning light. Sand spurs and puppies and red autumn leaves and warm lights in the clear night autumn sky. Carolina, Carolina, you're hard, but you're hard to forget. Carolina, I knew you before the highways got to you, and I love you as one of your own, and I still do. Carolina, Carolina, you're hard, but you're hard to forget. You're hard to forget. You're hard to forget.