All Roads Lead to Water

Yes, I know, in making Linda's birthday greeting Monday, I was one day off. Considering all things at the moment (meaning every day is pretty much like Sunday Funday), that's pretty good. In my birthday call to her, she did turn me on to a great wine, Ménage à Trois Midnight. Good enough to go get some and celebrate with her long distance.

 This one's for you, Linda! Robin's husband Gary showed up to celebrate as well. 

If you read the vintners description of the wine, you might feel like someone is trying, ever so luringly,to pull you into a relationship, a very intimate relationship (with overtones of slightly, or more than slightly, kinky), before you've even shaken hands. What's to say no to there?

Where was I? I woke up with a whole Tiny Home Tuesday theme in my brain. It was something about a dream I had, from sleeping under this afghan Robin made about 25 or 30 years ago. She made one for me at the same time...it was purple and finally gave way to time. In my dream I was sleeping under my old one but it was now and somehow this light ribbon of time was connecting all of my memories of friendship, woven in yarns. I woke up at the point in the dream that I was thinking about how our brains are tiny homes, for all the homes, for all the containment of memory capsules, for so much that isn't tangible. Obviously I needed coffee. Immediately.

Instead, I took off with Robin to this place on John's Bayou where she had some missions to accomplish. So did I. Here is some of what got done.

Then we were off to chase down some beach memories. You cannot live in Florida and expect much to remain the same from 30 years ago, but it doesn't mean you shouldn't try. I think that counts for a lot more places than Florida too.





This area is a little confusing if you don't know much about the Panhandle of Florida. It seems like the coast should just be the coast, but it isn't. There are bayous and creeks and bays and all manner of bay bridges if you don't live directly on the beach.





We were off. Yes, not like that. How many double negatives does it take to make a positive?

There were a lot more sights like this but it was sort of depressing. I'd much rather remember the funky bar where we went dancing lo those many years ago. The bar is only gone in reality.

Replenishing dredge for a little beach here. 

There was a guy sitting in a car who, as we got out, rolled down his window and commented on Robin's car. He is hired by the dredging company as a security guard and looks over the little parking lot and area 12 hours a day, 7 days a week. He is young. He takes photos and notices dolphin. He says his brother got him the job and he'll keep it awhile. Good thing, since I think I know about 5 guys who would want it.

On the other side of the bridge, the giant hotel side, is a Margaritaville. Outside of that is a magnolia tree that was apparently killed by the construction going on. Instead of simply razing it, one very creative act of grace happened.

At that point I needed to just get by the water quickly. We found a row of empty boat slips and sat ourselves down for a bit.

Time to go re-visit a beach bar.

I can't express how this makes me feel. All I can say to the powers that be on Culebra, heed and act.

We got into a long discussion with the server about oysters. When I was here 'back then' Apalachiacola oysters were fat, briny, plentiful and cheap. At least at night at bars they were. Now, there are really very few. British Petroleum - BP - pretty much took care of that for the next who knows how long. Locals think a good hurricane might help. I can see where a good hurricane might solve a lot of problems in a lot of places but it's a very strange way to think, knowing as we all do what else happens... Crazy World Dept. part 2,567,679,123.

We ordered oysters anyway. They were from someplace not in Florida but very fresh. Good but not WOW. 

After a stop for wine and cheese we headed to one beach we knew they hadn't gotten to, only because it was part of a state park. Back then there were no boardwalks, no signs. The dunes WERE made for walking because that's how you got to the water.

It is still beautiful. Very beautiful. At least three older people walking down the beach stopped to enjoy our enjoyment and add to it with their own. We all have our own memory frame for the reality of now.

Have a whiz-bang wide awake Wednesday! Do something wholeheartedly.