Each fall (or at least what we call fall in south Georgia), I see these yellow wildflowers bloom all along the edge of the highway. And each fall, I think about stopping and taking a picture. But then I let time get away from me and I never seem to get the picture.
This evening, I did.
A special thanks to my oldest son for going with me. It was great having that time to talk.
By the way, is it politically correct to call it an "Indian Summer?" It just didn't sound right to say "Native American Summer." My relatives were Cherokee Indians and I'm not offended. So, if someone is offended, my apologies. It wasn't intentional.
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