There’s nothing like the soil of the Piedmont, no sir. A life spent rising early, planting peppers, and praying a cyclone doesn’t throw you at God is an honest one, worthy of the Carolinas. There’s fortune in that dirt, you know; cash crops waiting to be cultivated and a future waiting to be grown. Build a house, build a barn, and get to work; wipe sweat from your brow by day and lay your head on a pillow at night. There aren’t too many distract…
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