What does home mean to you?
Is it the sights, smells, surroundings? Is it the way the car drives down the highway, and those potholes that sat once before still sit?
I don’t know what home is, but if I had to guess, it would be the way the autumn air presses against my cheek. It’s the way my hands clasp Jim’s and fail to produce sweat. It’s the crunching of leaves reminiscent to cracklings.
Home is where the heart is, and my heart has always belonged in this state. On the plane ride here, I heard two, spoiled Floridians shit-talking my state, referencing it as “redneck.”
If Tennessee is redneck, so be it that I may be a farmer with a burned neck. Tennessee has its good and bad, but where I’m from, the good certainly outweighs the bad.
I’m delighted to share this journey with you all, and I sincerely hope if you do enjoy these pictures—you consider coming to my home. ❤️
Cory Cowley
2021-10-25 14:40:47 +0000 UTCCory Cowley
2021-10-25 14:40:25 +0000 UTCHeather
2021-10-25 01:20:45 +0000 UTCRamses Tavera
2021-10-24 14:58:03 +0000 UTCCory Cowley
2021-10-22 20:58:54 +0000 UTCKatie Mann
2021-10-22 20:57:02 +0000 UTC6Luna6Jade6
2021-10-22 20:43:08 +0000 UTC