Nice in Niceville ~ Playing in the Dirt

One of my favorite things is playing in the dirt and I'm getting to do a lot of that. Hooray! Yesterday we brought home tomatoes and hot peppers and they are now in their happy pots ready for transplanting another day, along with doing a lot of Spring things in the yard, planting, transplanting, cleaning up the raggedy bits from a Florida winter. For me, this is a meditation and therapy, a gift that is about giving and receiving all at the same time. There are memory plantings, in the best way of remembering; bird feeders and butterfly gardens, angels and pagodas, feeling the love, holding the love. 

A visitor

The squirrels love the bird feeders.
There's enough for everyone.

This yard is big enough to have vignettes all around. So we do.

Peppers and tomatoes that will eventually be transplanted.
Last year's sweet pepper plants are in the ground and one already has a blossom!

This will be the butterfly garden.

A place to relax and enjoy the work and the beauty. 

Bayous and bays are everywhere. 

There is still a lot of post storm clean-up going on

Trees and trees and more trees

Azaleas are blooming in banks of pinks and reds and whites, along with a lot of flowering bushes and trees I don't know the name for. It's hard to capture them unless I compare it to the bougainvilleas on the way to Zoni when they are in full bloom, so I didn't try.

These are from the backyard of the place we went yesterday morning for an oyster breakfast. 

I'm not sure what sort of fishing they were set up for as they drifted along.

An osprey looking for his own breakfast

I didn't grow up in Northern Florida, with its beauty so different from the East coast. I've always felt like Florida is about 5 states in one, city, country, and very different coasts, Atlantic and Gulf. While it will never be the state I grew up in with its developments and polluted waterways, there are still some magical places left if you take the time to look for them. Just like anywhere, beauty is there to find, sometimes right in your own backyard. Keep your eyes open!

Have a wandering Wednesday. Do something whimsical. 

Florida ~ It's Out There

Florida is so many places at once, long empty roads lined with oaks, cities, beaches, ponds, lakes and lots of all of that. But I think empty landscapes, dotted with cows and horses, make up more of Florida than is usually thought. Wandering around the two and four lane roads, with little traffic and lots of Mom and Pop businesses, a visitor could wonder if one was in Florida at all and be right if guessing yes.

I've been staying with Francie until we both head out to western destinations, she to Nevada, me to California. She picked me up at the I-said-I'd-never-do-that-again bus station in Ocala and we headed north to see Kirk and Pam near the obliquely named spot in the road Sopchoppy, the Worm Gruntin' Capital of the World. 

Porch time with Pam and Kirk (and kitties)

Wikipedia says this about the name: The town's name is a corruption of "Lockchoppe", derived from the Muskogee lokchapi (lokcha (acorn) / api (stem)), which was the old name of the nearby river.[7]

There are other theories as well, but this one seems as good as any of them. 

I'd been hearing about their place for years, but each time I drove by it, heading to the Gulf shores to camp in the Turtle, they were somewhere else. It was time!

I don't know how big the property is but it's big!

Bordering on a swamp, the feeling of being far off in the woods is strong. But nearby are beaches! Nearby being a relative term.

Kirk's shop is huge, no surprise to anyone who knows him

The boat Pam and Kirk have worked on three years now.
Launching time isn't far away.

I love this wood burning stove Kirk made, named Croc. 

One of Pam's sculptures. I'm in love.

All over the property are visual surprises.

What is it? Pam and Kirk are searching for the answer 

I have a lot of photos of the above jig, it's one of those objects that begs for an answer as to its origin. Moving parts, a serial number that I can't track down... If anyone is interested in joining the hunt, let me know and I'll send more photos.

After sitting up talking while drinking a lot of wine and looking at various treasures until the wee hours, we all turned in. Francie and I headed out the next morning, taking a detour to Cedar Key. She'd never been there and I'd not been there for over 30 years. Incredibly enough, it still has some of its old Florida charm left, though the modern world has crept in. More on that in a minute. 

When you start seeing big expanses of water, you know you're there.

Little islets dot the waters around Cedar Key and the feel of another time and places hit immediately. Out of the woods, into the zone. A Florida I remember better than the one that exists today.

We walked the main drag, a very short walk, in search of a place to have lunch. The one we wanted to go to was closed so this place was it. It was okay, the oysters were good, but nothing to say, GO HERE!

I did really like this oyster shell wall

Oysters and crab bisque, a fish sandwich and potato salad
The oysters are from a local oyster farm and they were good

This is for Jack, if he ever sees it. 

There are still some funky buildings

Street art

Of course Francie loved this. 

The car was feeling a bit wobbly and as we headed off, the wobble became a distinct bumpity bump. Getting out to look, a tire had started to split apart, as in a two foot separation, though for some (thank you, Universe!) reason it wasn't flat as a pancake. With no phone signal, we headed back to Cedar Key and the first store. Still no signal. Using the store phone Francie got in touch with AAA. Sure, we might have done it ourselves but that's why you pay AAA! 

After a long wait, the best AAA guy in the world showed up. He changed the tire and then followed us 40 miles back to where new tires could be purchased. He called ahead and with 5 minutes until closing, the tires were changed. We swapped old Florida stories and one he told us was really sad/maddening/sad. 

Apparently, as 'Yankees' as he called them, found the charms of Cedar Key, they decided one aspect that any old Florida person considers part and parcel of Florida, wasn't so charming. Shrimp boats have been banned from Cedar Key, with the reason being they were 'unsightly'. That seems so bizarre, but it's true. There were a few more stories too, the ones you usually don't hear until you've been lured by the location and find yourself in Paradox. That's why he and a few more live 'out in the woods' nearby. Oh Florida!

Since neither of us like to drive at night anymore, we found a reasonable motel to stay in, in the town of Chiefland (it wasn't on my bucket list but it did the trick), found a BBQ place with excellent ribs and called it a night. The next morning, it was back to Lake Panasoffkee.

With so much rain, the land is lush!

Yesterday afternoon, after it cooled down a bit, we took a walk to the lake. Even with all the rain, the lake is way down on water. The birds I'm used to seeing everywhere were nowhere, except a couple of anhingas too far off to do justice to with a photo.

Some dragonflies entertained instead of birds

In all of the greens, these blooms stood out in fiery contrast

Soon we'll both head out in separate directions, except for generally West, to meet up again another time somewhere. That's what friends do. 

While this trip took a curve unexpected, with a leap to the West far sooner than I thought, everything has a reason, some of which remain to be seen. Roll with it. Or fly. Life is short, carpe diem. 

Have a Sunday Funday! Do something serendipitous!

Cross City's Putnam Lodge & Spa

I was looking for a pull over place on my way back south - one has to look ahead when driving Turtle like vehicles, whipping around a corner just doesn't work - when I saw a good one up ahead. A 'good one' means no sharp corner, no deep drops and the ability to just drive out the other side. Actually, that is a GREAT one. And there it was, up ahead. Cross City, here I am.

I was walking around the Turtle doing my little exercise and checks, wondering what the huge stack spewing steam? was all about when a glance across the road reminded me that I'd seen this place (The Putnam Lodge - Hotel and Spa) when I was heading north and it intrigued me then. Now I wasn't driving. It was right there across the way. I'd go check it out.

The Putnam Lodge isn't huge, making for a really welcoming feel.

When I came in, a woman passing through the lobby into the dining room said hello and welcome. I thought I'd order something to drink and hang out a little but that is not what happened. It was much better. 

She offered me water or tea, and a glass of southern sweet tea seemed like it would be perfect. Then she apologized, saying they were having a big Christmas party event and the dining room was closed. I asked if it would be alright to take photos and it was.

A glass of tea, one big symbol of Southern hospitality 

I'd like to sit in this bar wearing a silk dress  and high heels...that's the effect this place has

No, I did not pose the dog (who, I later found out, is named Junior). But he's pretty perfect, isn't he?

The woodwork is the original pecky cypress, with delicate stenciling that really does adorn rather than detract. I'm not a big fan of much stenciling - this works.

So cozy. Luckily the fire wasn't lit or I might still be there

Beverly, the woman who brought me the tea, turned out to be the owner and she began to tell her story.  Wanting to buy the Lodge for years; the one time she thought she was getting close, an 82 year old woman, who saw it from the restaurant across the street, fell in love with it, even though it was obviously in deep need of repair and closed off with fencing. She bought it, for 150,000 dollars. Beverly knew it wasn't her time. Yet.

After putting over a million dollars into restoration, medical issues made continuing with the Lodge impossible for the woman who'd bought it. Her 62 year old daughter took over but then she became ill and died. The son closed it up and put it on the market, though he was very reluctant to show it at all, let alone let his realtor do so. 

Around that time, Beverly and her husband happened to drive through the area again. The for sale sign was up! Could they just call the realtor, Beverly asked her husband, and take a look?  They did, and put in a bid against two other interested parties. With the sale of their own home, they could plunk down some hard cash and the bidding war was over. The Lodge was theirs. 

Gini (the Lodge's massage therapist) and Beverly 

Winding in, around and through the relating of this story, one phrase repeated 'I just believed, and kept believing, in my dream.' At one point, she mentioned I must think it all sounded a little weird, this believing in dreams and expectations. I assured her I not only didn't think it weird, but felt much the same myself. I come from a whole island of dreamers! But I didn't tell her that...

Gini came on to the porch and Beverly introduced us. In a few minutes, she told me a bit of her own story, how she had a massage therapy business in town but that when the Lodge opened and Bev asked her to join them, she was thrilled to do so, though she still keeps her business in town going for locals. We like that sort of thing. 

All of this happened only a year ago. There was no restaurant, though there had been catering. I don't know what it looked like before in what is now the dining room and bar, but it looks welcoming, with a feel of comfortable elegance now. 

There were 100 luncheon guests coming in soon and we'd been chatting a good while. While I would have loved to snoop around a lot more, it was time to go. There are many more photos on the web site to show you what I missed. 

'Don't forget, believe in your dreams!' rang in my ears as I drove out of sight.

Have a maximum Monday. Do something mirthfully marvelous.

Someone else's words that work for us

There is an author I really like, among quite a few, because he writes about places where I grew up. Parents and geography form us early on, for good or bad, and then we get to be adults and take on or shed the good or the bad and continue on with our lives. Or stay in the mental cradle. I followed the yellow sand road, myself.

My life was the east coast of Florida and then, late in the game, right before I moved to the islands, what we Floridians called the Left Coast, even though Californians think they own that title. On the east coast, I learned from my father to swim and fish and crab and shrimp (I've said some or most of this before in this blog, I know, and if you've been following along, sorry - but hey, it's my story and we 'scritch scritch' old people love to repeat ourselves and you know where the *next* button is if you choose to bail, but if you're new....this is for you, and me too). I dug oysters and clams and teased horseshoe crabs and rode sea turtles (sorry to say, but I did...after the laying, when she'd get to the place in the water where she was still touching sand but almost ready to swim, four of us would hold each other and get steady on her back...she'd start to swim...and one by one we fell off into inky black sea, laughing and cheering her on to the depths where we couldn't follow). It was sort of like this but add 4 giggling children:


Of course, I'd never do this now and my Dad would have been mad, but to young teens who jumped out of our windows to join up in the night, heading to the beach to watch turtles and moonlight...it seemed a thing we had to do.

We fed dolphin from Mather's bridge with the bridgetender laughing, learned to water ski, learned to sail, had clam and oyster bakes on sand by the sea and grass by the river, tromped through woods where avocados and oranges and grapefruit grew and were sold with a piece of cardboard and prices, and an old cigar box, once known as the honor system, by the side of the road. And not very many cheated either. I know because I knew the people who lived far off the road near the river side. And then as it does, life goes by and I was grown up with kids and life shifts again, and then I was single, I moved to the Left coast. Moved onto boats borrowed and then onto boat mine. A 13 foot alligator named Harry (with a secret name Eduordo because he loved opera), manatees and their babies, and great blue herons were my better neighbors.

So that is why I love and cherish sacred places on the planet that I'm lucky enough to have found, and that found me. That is why I terrifically enjoy Carl Hiaasen and Randy Wayne White and James. W. Hall, but starting it all (from my father's hand to mine) with John D. MacDonald, one of the foremost Florida writers from After The Fall of Florida (oh Travis McGee!! where are you now), for before the fall, A Land Remembered by Patrick D. Smith will fill you in on what it was like before the fall was in full gear.

And one of MacDonald's best, and most fitting books for this train of thought, Condominium...the last book my father read. Some reviews are worth a look. If you live in America, you can probably pick up Condominium or the whole colorful Travis McGee series for a few bucks. There are a bunch of them.















I actually blame most of my love of the natural world and my willingness to be pissy about saving it (or making a lot of noise about saving it) on my father, who thought taking his four children to the beach in the middle of the night to watch turtles lay eggs was a fine thing to do, and we thought it was normal. Who would tell us, with only Listerine and Vick's VaporORub in the bathroom cabinet, that if those, and going to the sea, didn't cure us of whatever ailed us, we must need the hospital (I still keep Vick's & Listerine around, and I know my brother does too, whether we use it or not - we do still use the sea for healing and we don't often get sick. Our father might not be on this plane anymore, but I know he's still watching...so we'd better not get sick).

This is from James W. Hall's book Hell's Bay. It resonates because what happened in Florida is what happened to so many islands after Florida got filled and ruined. The developer's keep going south, and east and west and farther south again, doing to the beautiful places what they've always done. Slash and burn, take the money, and oh, sorry, little people! Save what's left...catchy or irritating, if there is anything left to save, it is a worthy mantra.

In this section he is speaking of mangroves:

"Those simple trees, with salt-filtering roots and salt-excreting leaves, were a crucial resource, buffering the land from storms, year by year setting out new roots and expanding the boundaries of the islands and coastlines they protected. To the untrained eye they seemed humble, barely more than weeds, no bright flowers, no towering branches. Simply a dense tangle of slick brown limbs, and shiny green leaves. Mangroves were the forests of my youth. They were my sequoias and my hemlocks and my giant sugar maples. Scrubby vegetation, unlovely, nothing awe-inspiring about them, mangrove forest were frequently thought to be dismal wasteland, mosquito-breeding habitats with no useful purpose. As with much of the Everglades, a sensitive eye was required. Any fool could stand at the rim of the Grand Canyon and experience awe. But the majesty of theose low-lying, unvarying mangrove-lined esturies and bay was far quieter and harder to grasp, which was one of the many reasons why the ever-growing legions of newcomers to the state were so dangerous. To have an unobstructed view of blue waters, those idiots were eager to raze the lowly mangroves, to call in the bulldozers and dreges and hack them away. Though it was illegal to destroy those crucial tress, in the rare instnaces a developer was actually caught and fined a few thousand dollars, most of them considered the penalty simply part of the cost of providing their clients a million-dollar vista."

This particular book, though a novel, contains much that is revelant to Culebra and probably to 1000 other beautiful places where money is more important than nature and its amazing ability to keep beautiful and strong for hundreds of years what a few months' time of careless building can destroy for generations. The hurricanes and the floods and the many swift ways of nature come in and owners who bought what was built on shifting sands, who haven't researched what they have bought cry foul...to developers who have, in the the small print, made sure they have no responsibility for.

It's just a thought...after reading a good read. Thanks, Mr. Hall. Hope I'm not in trouble for copying this without your permission. If I am...I'll serve my sentence on the Left Coast, Nav-a-gator dock, please.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Last minute addition! I just got this email from my brother (who, of course, still lives in Fla). Since the above is pretty serious and I never stay serious long, it seemed like the perfect ending for a Florida laced post. Hey, I laughed.

Getting Old in Florida

Two elderly ladies are sitting on the front porch in Bonita Springs , doing nothing.
One lady turns and asks, 'Do you still get horny?'
The other replies, 'Oh sure I do.'
The first old lady asks, 'What do you do about it?'
The second old lady replies, 'I suck a lifesaver.'
After a few moments, the first old lady asks, 'Who drives you to the beach?'

**********************************************************
Three old ladies were sitting side by side in their retirement home in Ft. Lauderdale reminiscing.
The first lady recalled shopping at the green grocers and demonstrated with her hands, the length and thickness of a cucumber she could buy for a penny.
The second old lady nodded, adding that onions used to be much bigger and cheaper also, and demonstrated the size of two big onions she could buy for a penny a piece.
The third old lady remarked, 'I can't hear a word you're saying, but I remember the guy you're talking about.
**********************************************************
A little old lady was sitting on a park bench in The Villages, a Florida community.
A man walked over and sits down on the other end of the bench. After a few moments, the woman asks, 'Are you a stranger here?'
He replies, 'I lived here years ago..'
'So, where were you all these years?'
'In prison,' he says.
'Why did they put you in prison?'
He looked at her, and very quietly said, 'I killed my wife.'
'Oh!' said the woman. 'So you're single...?!'

**********************************************************
A man was telling his neighbor in Miami , 'I just bought a new hearing aid. It cost me four thousand dollars, but it's state of the art It's perfect.'
'Really,' answered the neighbor. 'What kind is it?'
'Twelve thirty.'
**********************************************************
Morris, an 82 year-old man, went to the doctor in Estero to get a physical. A few days later the doctor saw Morris walking down the street with a gorgeous young woman on his arm.
A couple of days later the doctor spoke to Morris and said, 'You're really doing great, aren't you?'
'Just doing what you said, Doc: 'Get a hot mamma' and 'be cheerful,'' Morris replied.
To which the doctor replied, 'I didn't say that, Morris. I said, 'You've got a heart murmur, be careful!'
**********************************************************
A little old man shuffled slowly into the 'Orange Dipper', an ice cream parlor in Naples , and pulled himself slowly, painfully, up onto a stool.
After catching his breath he ordered a banana split.
The waitress asked kindly, 'Crushed nuts?'
'No,' he replied, 'hemorrhoids...'