I live very close to the mouth of the mighty Altamaha River, where 14,000 square miles of central Georgia surface water tumbles into the sea. Un-dammed and free flowing throughout its entire course, the Altamaha is a biodiversity hotspot, and has been the focus of intense conservation efforts for decades. Today, thanks to collaborative effort between GA DNR, private property owners, and The Nature Conservancy, the Altamaha boasts a 42-mile continuous corridor of protected lands, and serves as a best practice for other critical habitats on the coast.

On its north shore lies the small town of Darien, chock-full of history, shrimp and home to a expertly-curated marine hardware store (just a few of my favorite things).

At the hardware store in Darien, GA

I cross up to Darien on old Route 17. This route passes through a vast area of impoundments that once comprised the massive rice plantation owned by Pierce Butler. It is a space that contains multitudes. Here, it is possible to gather threads of some of the most pivotal/defining/challenging narratives of the antebellum Lowcountry. Fanny Kemble, Roswell King, The Weeping Time, the Bank of Darien and Gone With The Wind are imbedded in the very landscape.

Rice impoundments at the mouth of the Altamaha River

These impoundments are a living vestige of forced labor performed by slaves from West Africa’s Rice Coast (Senegal, Sierra Leone and Liberia), who would give rise to the Gullah-Geechee people. The earthworks speak volumes about the scale and scope of forced labor in a way that lands differently in me than visiting a historic tabby ruin.

Rice was grown in diked fields at the mouths of most Lowcountry mainland rivers, with production reaching its peak between 1850 and 1860. In Georgia alone, about 23,000 acres of land were felled of cypress and worked into an orderly grid of canals and impoundments.

Today what remains of Butler’s rice operation are a few historic structures and the extensive dyke system, which is laterally compressed to the view of the casual motorist, but extensively accessed by local populations of waterfowl, sportsmen, and natural resource managers. Some of the other rice plantations have been converted into other uses like residential subdivisions (See FLORIDA) and crawfish farms (See WOODBINE), but many remain fallow yet functioning, with a diversity of marsh grasses now mixed in with the most persistent wild rice.

On the Satilla near Woodbine, GA

The stirring juxtaposition of intrinsic good – biodiversity, ingenuity, and productivity – nested within unbearable suffering – enslavement, abuse, and separation – is something that I rarely see in the interpretation of plantation-era sites. Interpretation, like people, is often segregated. These earthworks present an impossibly complex narrative deftly, even marking the passage of time and imparting a sense of urgency looking into the future.

Me and Fabio got married this August in the thick of the swamp heat. We sealed the deal in Woodbine, GA by the power vested in Judge Sweat (no relation to Keith, sadly) at the small county courthouse just a stone’s throw from the Satilla River. We had three dear friends as witnesses: Debbie, Antonello and Ilaria.

I pitched my bouquet down the courthouse steps to lovely Debbie. Interesting, since it was her own Mama who did up that bouquet as well as Fabio’s boutonnière for the big day. The precise timing of the nuptials was inspired by the arrival of the Italian newlyweds Antonello and Ilaria, who were travelling the US East Coast on their own honeymoon. Rarely does Fabio receive guests in coastal Georgia, let alone friends from kindergarten. It was a sign.

We went to a thrift store the day before and allowed ourselves an unlimited budget for our wedding digs. That was an amusing shopping trip, and we selected a woodsy green and brown palette, ultimately appropriate for rural Camden county. I imagined myself a hip diner waitress and he a lumberjack in his Sunday best.

I myself was excited to speak my vows, and to see sweet Fabio get through his too. “Cherish” was a stumbling block, but I pointed out it was a very important part, and so he spiffed up his pronunciation on a second try.

Afterwards, we retired to Captain Stan’s for a reception brunch of ribs, butter beans and coleslaw. Then on to Okefenokee for a proper promenade, and back to Brunswick for cake.

Admittedly, it was a big decision, yet we tried to play it down since neither of our families were going to be there. Far-flung ourselves, with even just our nuclear families peppered over two hemispheres of the Earth, a simple wedding is improbable. So “it’s just paperwork” was our constant refrain, and we soothed both our Mamas that the family party that will eventually come will be the Real Wedding. Nonetheless, we were pleased at how our day was adorned with gestures from our new friends here, and we know our families are grateful that we had a cheering section in their absence. We are grateful for both the understanding and the effort.

The morning of, we each traveled separately and had time to make a few calls. So by strict definition, we didn’t have a secret wedding, per se. But it did take several weeks to get in personal contact with enough of an inner circle to feel like it was real. I will admit to dragging it out a bit, because… how often are you secretly married?

But now we are coming out as married. Now our rolling stones officially roll along together, yet we still have to figure out how to make it official for our dispersed circle of friends and family. How do you have a Real Wedding when so many of the people you love are righteously bound to their own realities? How dare we summon you all with babes in arms and home fires burning, to some remote location at extreme expense? It might be simple for some, but it will most definitely be out-of-the-way for most.

According to Wikipedia, “in The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, teleportation is generally frowned upon”, but I am beginning to doubt this sacred text. It seems that building a wormhole is the quickest way through to seeing our friends and families at one table, smiling at us in person.