Am I in the South or not?

Stan tells me that Florida is not the South.

This is disappointing to me. Ever since my first trip west of the Mississippi (Atlanta, circa 1983) I have wanted to live in the South. (Some people try to tell me Atlanta is not the South, either.)

Now I did notice, a few months back, that when I drove about 400 miles north things kept getting more and more Southern. Please don't tell me that Charlotte isn't the South either.

What about Birmingham? I've been there and it is a lovely city, too.

Maybe I read Flannery Connor at too early an age. Maybe I am just obsessed with good food, the potential elegance of the English language, and flora and fauna.

One of the nicest things about Alaska was the presence of many happy Southerners. Several of them, nurses, worked for me in the wilds of Western Alaska. I arranged to work all holidays in return for meal deliveries from brilliant Southern cooks. And all the Southerners, black and white, seemed very comfortable with the local Eskimos - another culture known for hospitality and great seafood.

Florida seems Southern to me, especially now when it is punishingly hot and the snowbirds have left. Every two weeks another amazing flower emerges everywhere. Crape myrtle last week. There are lovely little reptiles and hibiscus everywhere.

I read "Southern Living" religiously and study Southern cuisine. I am a little worried about Trisha Yearwood's lovely cookbooks, where every recipe includes bacon, mayonnaise, and canned soup. (I bought them anyway). I was very pleased to find to find Robert St. John's cookbook, "Deep South Staples:How to survive in a southern kitchen without a can of cream of mushroom soup".