Y’all — I’m a day late to the party. As a ride-or-die, through-and-through Kentuckian, I should be ashamed of myself. However, being fashionably late is excusable on occasion, correct?
Yesterday was Kentucky’s 226th birthday. My dear Commonwealth, you’re not as old as Methuselah – but, you’re gettin’ on up there! But, like fine wine, you get better with age.
What is Kentucky to me?
Kentucky is a heritage. It’s Phelps Acres Farm, the land my family homesteaded in 1798 – the very land that I grew up on. It’s people – God fearin’, hard workin’, genuinely good folk. It’s strong bourbon, bluegrass, the tulip poplar. It’s cardinals (not wildcats, ya know), the sun shinin’ bright. It’s the sweetest of tea, the farmhouse meals that rival a Michelin star restaurant. It’s the hills, the mountains, the lakes, the rivers, the creeks.
It’s my Commonwealth — the only place that I ever want to call home.
As always, Happy Eating, Happy Traveling, Happy Living!
Y’all come back now, ya hear?
FTC: I was not compensated for this post. All opinions are my own.