November always brings a mix of celebration and reflection for Cowgirl Candace. It’s my birthday month. Another year of life and lessons, but these past few years have felt different. As soon as I crossed into my 40s, I started losing some of the strongest women who shaped my roots: both my grandmothers, June Morrow and Frankie Thomas, and three of my favorite great-aunties, Auntie Joyce, Aunt Anna, and Aunt Marie. Their departures cracked my now 42-year-old heart wide open. But in that heartbreak, I found myself leaning deeper into our centennial homeland. Into the family who’s still here. Steady as oak. Carrying the torch of our Middle Georgia story. These three — Kelli, Chauncey, and Auntie Kathy — have been my rural rocks of laughter and unconditional love. They remind me daily that our Edward Hill Farm mission stretches beyond soil or storytelling. We’re about survival and community, caring intentionally for one another long after the elders have ascended. 

If you’ve followed my journey long enough, you know I don’t tell stories for clout. I tell them to honor our farm home, and the ones who built, believed, and made sure the next generation could move forward courageously during good and bad times. Kelli, Chauncey, and Auntie Kathy represent what I fight to protect every day: the work ethic, creativity, and community spirit rooted in the hayfields and horses that helped raise us. These farm family members are proof that legacy isn’t dusty history. For the Morrows, it’s alive. Flowing. Modern with edge. Each of these Southern sensations reminds me that I’m not just documenting stories. I’m extending them. And that’s why I go hard in these Southern streets. The honest affection we pour into one another (and our family land) deserves remembrance and respect, especially as time continues to usher us along.

Chauncey: The Crane King with a Cue Stick 

My first cousin Cowboy Chauncey Shaw, 39, has hands that tell a story. Rough from labor, unshakeable from mastery. As a crane operator, he maneuvers heavy machinery with the same control he once used on the basketball court as a high school and college standout. When he’s not operating cranes, he’s preserving our heritage. He lent his skill to our family’s arboriculture work, a trade he learned from his uncle and my Daddy, Cowboy Steve Boy McCoy. Chainsaws, ropes, balance, and patience: Chauncey is fluent in them all. And when the workday’s done, you’ll find him at the pool table, running racks like clockwork — a talent he picked up from our late Grandpa Amos Morrow himself. Chauncey embodies that blend of preservation and quiet dignity that keeps Edward Hill Farm’s story standing tall.

Auntie Cowgirl Kathy: The Lens and Line Dancer

At 63, Auntie Cowgirl Kathy is still our family’s creative spark. A former barrel racer, she rode our paint horse Bo like she was born in rhythm with him. Both smooth and fearless. My Daddy’s baby and only sister, she’s the photographer behind many of the joyful childhood photos y’all see sprinkled across my IG feed (@thecowgirlcandace). She knows how to frame a moment. With her camera and presence. Her authenticity spills into every part of her life. She’s a Southern line dancer with natural rhythm, a roller-skating queen whose moves glide like gospel, and the kind of aunt who reminds you that joy is definitely generational for the Morrow family. Auntie Kathy’s artistry taught me that storytelling doesn’t have to start with words. Sometimes it begins with movement, laughter, and the right light.

Kelli: The Court-Side Scientist 

Baby sister Cowgirl Kelli Morrow, 33, is already schooling the next generation in both science and self-discipline. A lifelong Georgia educator, she’s taught everything from middle to high school. Today, she’s shaping young minds as a 7th-grade science teacher. Before lesson plans and lab coats, Kelli’s first classroom was our paved basketball court on Edward Hill Farm. She spent hours dribbling under our pine trees, perfecting her crossover before becoming our high school’s starting point guard. Then, she took her game to the collegiate level. Now she’s traded jump shots for whistles. Kelli is one of the few Black female referees in Middle Georgia and was named Georgia High School “Official of the Year.” Off the court, she stays active cycling country roads and remaining farm gal fit. Her drive and compassion reflect what our farm has stood for: Deep South discipline on the land.