We found Savannah on a Friday evening, just before dusk. Having had such a wonderful and slow morning in Charleston we were pretty content to have a quiet time of it. And I have to say, after a couple of weeks of eating and drinking our way down the coast, we were also hoping to get a good fill of fresh fruit and vegetables and lots of sleep. What made Savannah so amazing to us, so perfect and all around dreamy, was our little studio. It was a bit of a picture; quiet, private, clean and so damn cute. And not cute in an overly-floral cottage way (blah), but in that every detail of the space, from the clawfoot bath tub in the window alcove to the obscenely comfy antique cast iron bed and Danish leather lounge, was amazing. The front of the room was all window and all aglow with soft morning light. Pretty much the nicest thing you could imagine to wake up to. Our AIR BNB host, Richard, was out of town, but he was so kind and efficient, that it trumped any fancy hotel I’ve ever had the money for. His upstairs neighbor Harriet was an artist, and told us that he had built parts of the studio himself, originally an old stable to the main house, and she loved it for the light and beautiful garden. I loved it for the detail and the climbing wisteria and small magnolia tree in front that managed a flower so late in the season, just for us.
Savannah itself was full of storybook houses, wide public squares and old trees, dripping with Spanish moss. The trees shaded café tables and walkways, and even in the last days of autumn, were a nice pause from the heat. We did as I’d hoped and drank sweet iced tea and had old fashioned crabcakes. We made time for afternoon naps. I liked the way things felt Southern and soaked in tradition and more than a little grandeur.