Southern Saudade

I am fascinated by words that do not translate into English.  These foreign words demonstrate, to some extent, differences in cultural values.  In one language a particular feeling has a word symbol assigned to it; in another no word symbol was created that hits the mark.   Take, for instance, saudade, a Portugese word that can be roughly translated to mean a vague desire.  

Do you ever have a vague, unquinchable desire?  This feeling may be human nature; it is, no doubt, a feeling we have down South, and we even talk about it outloud but do not have a word symbol to assign.  We just say "there's no place else on earth like the South," and we mean it with all our hearts.  Sometimes we say "Southern by the grace of God."  Born of history, lush landscape and heat, Southern sensuality evokes poignant feelings of love and loyalty.  The sweetness of screen doors slamming, the squeek of rockers on front porches, fans, homemade ice cream, old oaks, watermelon, laughter remembered, laughter anticipated, flickers of lightning bugs, memories carried in the distant train whistle, magnolias in blooms, roses in cemetaries, spring azaleas, the thick, lush heat of summer, memories of ancestors we never knew, a desire to pass on this intense loyalty to the next generation...  

As  A.F.G. Bell wrote in In Portugal (1912):

"The famous saudade of the Portuguese is a vague and constant desire for something that does not and probably cannot exist, for something other than the present, a turning towards the past or towards the future; not an active discontent or poignant sadness but an indolent dreaming wistfulness."

An indolent dreaming wistfulness is a way of romancing a land/culture/history worthy of being romanced.  So I will borrow from the Portuguese and use their language to describe the Southern Saudade that smells like Confederate Jasmine in bloom and tastes like fried chicken, cornbread and iced tea.