I've read Flannery O'Connor short stories for decades. Last Sunday, while visiting the University of Georgia, I wondered how far I was from Flannery O'Connor's Georgia. It wasn't terribly far so I drove to the small town of Milledgeville, to the farm she lived in until her early death at age 39, and where she wrote her published works, on a typewriter, on this small table, in her bedroom.
The visit was an ah-hah experience for me, like a pilgrimage. It tied together many lose ends. It also led me to think about how a few acres were fertile ground for so many deeply insightful and complex stories.