Antebellum Grandeur.When the wet white stuff on the ground is not snow but rain-soaked leftover cotton from the harvest, you know you're in Dixie.

When you barely need a sweater for the quasi-chilly early mornings and late evenings, but can go comfortably bare-armed throughout the rest of the day even though it's nearly Christmas, you know you're in Dixie.

When there's a turkey in the oven and cranberry sauce on the table and yet flowers are blooming riotously everywhere you look, you know you're in Dixie.

And "charming" doesn't even begin to describe it.

This year we gathered for Thanksgiving at the beautiful Civil War-era house shared by our nephew, Dan, his lovely wife, Chelsey, and their four children.

One dog and four cats round out the gang. The puppy's name is Jenna but I didn't catch any of the (two indoor and two outdoor) cats' names. I just know that they seem to be everywhere at once. And that they're quick. And constantly tormented by kids.

We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures.

We were enjoying perfect weather in South Carolina last week, which added to the treat of spending the holiday in Hartsville, a mere 80-minute drive from our home in Columbia.

The drive included a swing by Pearl Fryar's place to take a quick peek at his astounding topiary gardens. If you've never seen or heard of Pearl, you should click here and consider buying the DVD A Man Named Pearl.

You won't believe your eyes.

We almost couldn't believe ours when we first saw the antebellum manse recently acquired by our nephew's family. The one-story house sits on four acres surrounded by cotton fields, grape arbors, and more mature camellia bushes than I would have thought existed in all of Darlington County.

TG's parents were there from Ohio. Also present were TG's only brother and our sister-in-law, who live in the south ... of Michigan. Two of their four children, two daughters-in-law, and six of their fourteen grandchildren were there too. Three of our four kids were with us, and our son-in-law, and both of our granddaughters.

Thornton Wilder believed that we can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures.

As you can see from the pictures, our hearts were conscious of (and grateful for) our treasures on Thanksgiving. It was the kind of day when you hear posterity calling, and it knows you by name. It was a delightful, never-to-be-forgotten day in Dixie.

Family members may click here to see the entire album and purchase prints.