Tales of a Southern Gentleman: Home

Home. Home for Vernon is an important place of balance, serenity, and the smell of wet ground. His home is small, a small wooden cabin in desperate need of a fresh coat of paint. It’s baby blue paint chipping away with each rainy day. Inside was nothing special; a small kitchenette, a little living space fixed with beat leather furnishings, and a door that led to his bedroom. The kitchen cabinets had bare necessities… dry ingredients, his whiskeys, his bourbons, a few pots and pans, and half a bottle of wine that he occasionally uses for cooking. His bedroom was just as special as the rest of the interior; one queen bed to himself, covered in cream sheets and a thick quilt, and a bathroom hidden behind one more door. His garage was next to the house, filled with beat-up trucks and cars from years before he was alive. His safe haven away from it all. It was just enough for one man and his dog, Doc. The real beauty of his home lay with the vast fields surrounding it. 

Crops of tobacco and hay interchange throughout the year to keep the soil as good as it can get. The warm and smoky scents of the tobacco plant and the pop of pink from its flowers always offers a comforting welcome to a worn-down cowboy no matter how many times he lays eyes on it. When hay’s in season those feelings are replaced with a sweeter and herbal scent and eyesores of hay bales scattering his fields. Though his acreage isn’t immense it’s enough for him to sustain his simple way of life. The fields, his small home, and his barn with his few old workhorses. Plenty to be grateful for. 

The barn sits just a few hundred feet behind his house and garage. Close enough to run to in the night in case of emergency but far enough to avoid the stenches that come with owning horses. The three horses are always pampered with only the freshest of hay and the best of his crops… even if Vernon isn’t entirely aware that they’re eating the best of his crops. His horses; Warren, Newton, and Jessabel resided in the nicest building on his farm. Fresh paint and pristine stables are Vernon’s pride and joy on his land. The barn is where Vernon tries to spend most of his time when he’s home. Up in the hayloft, he’ll lounge about in the hay, reading his books or taking a cat nap between his chores. Doc runs everything to make sure nothing happens on his watch, keeping the horses in check despite the size difference. The best part though is the ladder to the roof. On hot nights as soon as the sun sets, Vernon heads up to the rough with his cigarettes and his drink of choice to watch the sunset. Those scents of the crops amplify the sticky sweet summer air of his home state. There, he’ll watch the sky fade from beautiful shades of blue into bright oranges and fluffy pinks before its final shades of twilight purples and the darkest of blues. Once the sunset has put on its wonderful color show he marvels at the stars. The sky clear of light pollution for miles… the galaxy painting the sky with its twinkling star lights and show off-ish planets. The sunrise just starts it all over again, and Vernon could not ask for a better place to plant his roots.