Get away to High Point & Hickory

First things first: Can you save money by driving five hours to shop for furniture in North Carolina? Yes, although an industrious shopper in Atlanta could perhaps find similar savings by following sales, asking for discounts, and trolling Craigslist. The advantage to shopping in the Furniture Capital of the World is that so many discounted brands and floor samples are together under one roof.

Back to the Beach: St. Simons Island

It’s the little things that matter most on a weekend escape to the largest of Georgia’s enchanting Golden Isles.

Fairhope, Alabama offers golf, galleries, and grub

Alabama didn’t end up with much oceanfront, but the towns tucked along Mobile Bay provide enough culture, architecture, and good food that visitors don’t miss the white sand. Fairhope, on the eastern side of the inlet, is just five hours or so from Atlanta and in some ways has more in common with Highlands, North Carolina, than sand-and-surf destinations like Panama City Beach.

My two-stoplight hometown

A while back, a conspiracy of kindness unfolded like an unassuming flower in my hometown.

Agriculture meets tourism in Southwest Georgia

Brooke Hatfield’s route took her past Sweet Grass Dairy and White Oak Pastures, but the southwest region is home to some of Georgia’s top-producing counties.

Historical facts about some of Georgia’s small towns

Most towns between Atlanta and Savannah have a Sherman story, though Covington’s is less harrowing than some: His troops looted the town but otherwise left it intact.

Go North: See Rock City

From the sunset side of Interstate 75 to the Alabama border, you won’t spot a municipality themed to an Alpine village or wine trails with slick marketing campaigns.

Cape San Blas will rekindle your love for the Florida Panhandle

“Well,” I said to my husband, “I don’t think I have ever dined out looking so grubby in my life—but I don’t remember when I last felt this relaxed.” With another swig from a bottle of PBR, I leaned back in the wooden bench on the wide front porch of Indian Pass Trading Post and listened as Kerry James, whose sun-streaked hair and leathered skin testified to decades of beach bumming, belted his way through “Sweet Caroline.”

Go South: God’s little acre

I grew up in South Georgia, which, at fifteen, was hard to think of as a tourist attraction. My neck of the woods seemed like a place you’d travel through, not to. “It’s a land of red clay and despair,” I recall churlishly telling a college friend.

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