A quick trip to Florida
We left RDU the day of the gravity waves announcement. The universe is no longer silent. It ripples like the Gulf water that I watched as we landed in St. Petersburg: a steady background hum of waves, white noise, with smooth streaks cut throughout, remnants of the wake from speed boats.
We cut our own wake through space-time, heading south over the Tampa Bay causeway and Sky Bridge, lit up with yellows and greens, and on to Bradenton, where we stopped on the outskirts for some food and local culture at a dock side bar and grill (Woody's River Roo). Outside grow old live oaks dripping with Spanish moss. The night air was chilly but we sat outside anyways next to the dock. Life sized (but cartoon) kangaroo cut outs watched us as we ate.
Later that night (9 or 10 pm) we pulled into a ranch house in Sebring, where we stayed for two nights, visiting Rob, Jill, and their daughter, Wren. The next morning, when everyone had gone (Jill to work, Wren to preschool, and Rob and Susan to the grocery for coffee), I sat on the pool deck with the pups, basking in the morning sun, and playing a very old Ray Pickett tune on the chromatic harmonica (Never Get Drunk Anymore).
We visited the Archbald Nature Preserve to see Rob's work and get in a little birding. Out in the pine-oak scrub lands, we fed peanuts to endangered Scrub Jays. The sun was bright, and it reflected off the white sand so that my eyes felt fatigued. Throughout the day, I also reacquainted myself with the flora, mainly through the use of my previous blog posts (reference, Stalking the Wild Alligator): cabbage palmetto, saw tooth palmetto, sable palmetto, slash pine, Brazilian pepper tree, and royal palm.
On our way home, we grabbed some fresh veggies and fruit at a roadside stand (strawberries were just coming into season). Since Jill works only part time, she soon joined us. The four of us ate then went to Lake Jackson for bird watching. We ended at a little park, where I sat and played the harmonica a bit more. I was tired (from a beer at lunch). By the time I finished "The Devil's Nine Questions," Wren showed up.
Wren had a busy schedule during our visit. Friday evening, she had a gymnastic recital. Saturday, a tee ball game. The gynastic recital that evening was at the YMCA in a large covered pavilion, half of it dedicated to basketball the other half to the gymnists. I still have a fond memory I'm hanging onto of my own time in pre-school gymnastics where after weeks of trying, I was able to do a backwards summersault. After the recital, we debated about dinner. I think everyone wanted to go out but daddy, and in the end mommy won. We went back to the Mexican restaurant we were birding around ealier. Dinners with kids ... we left right about the time that Wren was getting tired.
That night we lazed about the couches with the dogs and chatted, and drank white wine, and the next day we left early for Punta Gorda, due west, to visit my aunt and uncle. The drive was lovely, through orange groves on sandy plains. A couple hours later, we had arrived at the Gulf View RV Resort and settled down onto the patio for chat, catching up about all the years since we'd saw each other, the general day-to-day, the house in Puerto Rico, and other family matters. As we walked (both around the little dock and down the road at the park - hunting for an alligator), I learned more about their path to Punta Gorda. Some years ago they lived in Nevada, and came to Orlando for a conference. Soon after, having fallen for the area, they sold their house and moved down.
I could go on about the trip and talk about our hippie Mexican dinner, birding the Gulf Coast, my sand castle, collecting shells, the late night in Tampa, the next morning our walk at the marsh, but I'd rather end the tale at the terminus of a grey wooden pier, with the wind howling, watching a pelican float below us, the Sky Bridge visible way out in the bay, holding Wren's hands with Susan.
We cut our own wake through space-time, heading south over the Tampa Bay causeway and Sky Bridge, lit up with yellows and greens, and on to Bradenton, where we stopped on the outskirts for some food and local culture at a dock side bar and grill (Woody's River Roo). Outside grow old live oaks dripping with Spanish moss. The night air was chilly but we sat outside anyways next to the dock. Life sized (but cartoon) kangaroo cut outs watched us as we ate.
Later that night (9 or 10 pm) we pulled into a ranch house in Sebring, where we stayed for two nights, visiting Rob, Jill, and their daughter, Wren. The next morning, when everyone had gone (Jill to work, Wren to preschool, and Rob and Susan to the grocery for coffee), I sat on the pool deck with the pups, basking in the morning sun, and playing a very old Ray Pickett tune on the chromatic harmonica (Never Get Drunk Anymore).
On our way home, we grabbed some fresh veggies and fruit at a roadside stand (strawberries were just coming into season). Since Jill works only part time, she soon joined us. The four of us ate then went to Lake Jackson for bird watching. We ended at a little park, where I sat and played the harmonica a bit more. I was tired (from a beer at lunch). By the time I finished "The Devil's Nine Questions," Wren showed up.
Wren had a busy schedule during our visit. Friday evening, she had a gymnastic recital. Saturday, a tee ball game. The gynastic recital that evening was at the YMCA in a large covered pavilion, half of it dedicated to basketball the other half to the gymnists. I still have a fond memory I'm hanging onto of my own time in pre-school gymnastics where after weeks of trying, I was able to do a backwards summersault. After the recital, we debated about dinner. I think everyone wanted to go out but daddy, and in the end mommy won. We went back to the Mexican restaurant we were birding around ealier. Dinners with kids ... we left right about the time that Wren was getting tired.
That night we lazed about the couches with the dogs and chatted, and drank white wine, and the next day we left early for Punta Gorda, due west, to visit my aunt and uncle. The drive was lovely, through orange groves on sandy plains. A couple hours later, we had arrived at the Gulf View RV Resort and settled down onto the patio for chat, catching up about all the years since we'd saw each other, the general day-to-day, the house in Puerto Rico, and other family matters. As we walked (both around the little dock and down the road at the park - hunting for an alligator), I learned more about their path to Punta Gorda. Some years ago they lived in Nevada, and came to Orlando for a conference. Soon after, having fallen for the area, they sold their house and moved down.
I could go on about the trip and talk about our hippie Mexican dinner, birding the Gulf Coast, my sand castle, collecting shells, the late night in Tampa, the next morning our walk at the marsh, but I'd rather end the tale at the terminus of a grey wooden pier, with the wind howling, watching a pelican float below us, the Sky Bridge visible way out in the bay, holding Wren's hands with Susan.
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