Category: Florida

Who Gets Sick in Paradise?

He snores beside me,
deeply, but not too loud.
Maybe after three days of
fevered restlessness he has
Found some equilibrium.

Just outside our hotel
room, people frolic in the
Warm waters of the blue green
bay, while I play Words With
Friends on my iPhone.

A morning spent on the beach
alone, pretending to be a
Minor celebrity escaping
pursuit by rabid paparazzi
Proved far too lonely.

So I drank too much rum punch
before returning to the dark
Comfort of our air conditioned
suite where I slipped beneath
Cool sheets to be with him.

Saturday Wanderings

On Saturday morning Studly Doright played in a golf tournament at Southwood Golf Club. I should have stayed home to do laundry in preparation for our trip to Clearwater Beach, instead I went in search of a gift for the faeries, and drove over to Native Nurseries on Centerville Road (nativenurseries.com).

I’d driven past Native Nurseries a number of times, but since I’m not much of a gardener, I didn’t think there was a reason for me to pull in. Boy, was I wrong! I might be in love.  

    
    
 I found some new friends while snapping photos of a staff member relocating caterpillars. Who knew caterpillars were so photogenic?

   
   
And I learned a bit about attracting butterflies to my yard:

   

The staff were friendly, knowledgeable, and super helpful, and even though I didn’t spot any faeries, I suspect a great many reside there. Just look at the tiny dragonfly bench I purchased! My faeries are going to love it!

  
Peace, people!

 

Destination Clearwater Beach

Florida is a big ol’ state. Just how big?

  
Well, according to City-data.com,

“The total area of Florida is 58,664 sq mi (151,939 sq km), of which land takes up 54,153 sq mi (140,256 sq km) and inland water 4,511 sq mi (11,683 sq km). Florida extends 361 mi (581 km) E–W; its maximum N–S extension is 447 mi (719 km). The state comprises a peninsula surrounded by ocean on three sides, with a panhandle of land in the NW.”

Even though Studly Doright and I have lived in Tallahassee for the past three years, and prior to this stint we lived in Melbourne, FL, for a period of four years  from 2000 to 2004, with a stretch of Illinois in between, there are a great many places in the Sunshine State that we’ve yet to visit. 

This week we’re heading to one of those long neglected places, Clearwater Beach, for a belated 40th anniversary celebration. 

  
Clearwater Beach is on Florida’s Gulf Coast, roughly 40 miles from Tampa. Rumor has it that the beaches there are some of the finest in the world, and I plan to do some serious investigating–mostly from the comfort of a lounge chair under a broad beach umbrella while sipping a mojito.

My Studly Doright is in need of a hefty dose of downtime, so we haven’t made plans to do anything too strenuous on our vacation. We have tickets to see The Dixie Chicks in Tampa on the 19th,

  
and I want to check out the Clearwater Marine Aquarium where “Dolphin Tale” was filmed. 

  
I made Studly watch “Dolphin Tale” so he’d be familiar with Winter, the dolphin. 

Other than that, we’re going to be lazy beach bums for a week. I’ll try to keep up with my blog, and I’ve got a few pieces queued up. Maybe I’ll even find some new inspiration.

  
What??? It could happen. Until then, keep the faith.

  
Peace, people!

Snapshot #6 or Something

I call this one “Storm Gathering.” I snapped it while riding in our little convertible as we drove into Tallahassee on Sunday afternoon. Not long after I took the photo we had to pull over and put the top up. 

 

Well Tended Forest

I slipped outside last Sunday afternoon, too restless for a nap, too lazy to do laundry. Leaving the quiet air-conditioned comfort of our home for the heavy, humid Florida air I was temporarily sightless as my glasses fogged over. Mole-like, I stumbled up the driveway.

There was no purpose to my walk as I left the confines of Doright Manor and slowly trudged through the neighborhood, but I was struck as always by the abundance of foliage. A product of the semi-arid Texas panhandle where relatively few trees grow, I’m constantly amazed by the variety and the vigor of my surroundings. 

  
Studly Doright and I do not live in a prettily manicured housing development. When we moved to Tallahassee we steered clear of what I’ve come to call “cookie cutter” neighborhoods. I don’t mean that term to be derogatory. Indeed, our home in Melbourne, Florida, was in such an area, and we appreciated the continuity of architecture and the strict guidelines that kept the community pristine.

This time, though, we knew we’d most likely be settling into retirement in this home, and Studly wanted a separate garage for the storage and care of his motorcycles. Most home owners’ associations won’t approve that sort of project, so we opted for a more loosely governed neighborhood.

We still have a neighborhood covenant with strict building guidelines, though. For example, the brick, roof, and windows on the shop had to precisely match our home, and we (meaning Studly) had to pore over tons of paperwork until he had the request for building approval worded just right. 

And if the yards aren’t kept in a reasonably acceptable manner residents receive a nasty gram from the powers that be. So far we’ve managed to live up to our end of the bargain. So as I walked up our tree-shaded lane I noted one home in serious need of attention:

   
   
Several months back I stopped and spoke with the elderly woman who lived here. Her husband was in poor health and she was lonely. We visited for awhile and I gave her my address. I encouraged her to call if she needed me.

Well, not long after her husband passed away and her family placed her in a nursing home. My heart goes out to her. I can easily imagine Studly and me going through the same trials someday in the future.

I’m not so worried  about neighborhood aesthetics, except our next door neighbor is trying to sell her home, and the neglected one down the street probably doesn’t help her efforts.

Not much I can do, but I have offered my services to help spruce the place up if we get the go ahead. It’s a tough thing–no one wants to step on anyone else’s toes.

I snapped a few more photos of our quiet neighborhood as I walked and perspired under the Florida sun. Now I need a shower!

   
    
    
 
Peace, people!

Rainy Days and Vacations Always Get Me Down.

Rain is our friend, right? Along with sunshine and good soil rain helps our gardens grow. But this forecast is bringing me down, man.

  
I’m especially bummed about the forecast for the Tampa area. Studly Doright and I have booked a beachfront suite at a resort in Clearwater, FL, for next week in celebration of our 40th anniversary. Their ten day forecast is as depressing as ours. 

Hopefully this whole mess will clear out by next Thursday. If not, Studly and I have to figure out how to have fun in a hotel room for five days. I should probably bring a deck of cards. And wine. Lots of wine.

Maybe Karen Carpenter can sing me out of my funk:

http://youtu.be/PjFoQxjgbrs
  
Peace, people!

The Sound of Silence aka The Grandkids are Gone

For almost two weeks we entertained two of our five grandchildren here at Doright Manor. It was the first time Dominique and Jackson have been alone with us for that length of time, and heading into the first week I felt some trepidation.

Would they get bored? Would I be patient with them? Could I train them to cook and clean like small indentured servants? 

As they prepared to leave on Saturday morning I asked them each if they’d had fun, and the answer was a resounding “Yes!”

They rode motorcycles.

  
Fished:


   
Helped Poppa with yard work:

 

Visited Poppa at the office:
 

Chopped down saplings:  
 

Created bird feeders:
   
Rode crazy rides at Wild Adventures:

    
  

That blur is Jackson.
  
   

Rode motorcycles again:  
Enjoyed Japanese stir fry:

 
Helped Poppa and me build a fairy house:

   
    
    
    
Created paracord bracelets for every member of the family:

    
And climbed trees.

 They also rode go karts at a local arcade, but the resident documentarian (me) came down with a nasty head cold and stayed at home for that adventure.

Apparently there was no boredom involved. I never even came close to losing my patience–a true miracle. However, the plan to have the kids take over the cooking and cleaning was for naught. Two out of three works for me. 

Now to enjoy the sound of silence. 

  
 Peace, people!

Clan O’Laughlin

We completed work on our faerie home and placed it on a stump in our backyard. We checked on it first thing this morning, and sure enough, a family of wee folk had already moved in. 

It seems they’d already had a home there, we just couldn’t see it until we built one! Fae magic is a strange and wonderful thing, indeed. Their story, that of Clan O’Laughlin, is recorded below. I had a little help with the telling of it.

“Clan O’Laughlin”

According to legend, over two hundred years ago, young Seamus O’Laughlin accidentally poached a lamb from his faerie king, the fearsome Grady O’Grady. Seamus wasn’t a thief, but his family was starving and when he came across the lamb wandering along a country lane he didn’t think twice, but took it home to be made into stew.

His wife, Brigid, knew immediately that the lamb belonged to Grady O’Grady and that if the king discovered the crime Seamus would be hanged in the public square for all the wee folk to witness. After cooking the stew Brigid gathered her loved ones together for one last meal in the family home.

“We must flee this place, and be quick about it,” Brigid told Seamus and their little ones, Ian and Aileen, as they partook of the hearty lamb stew.

That very night Brigid and Seamus placed their few valuable possessions into their small wagon. The door to their humble domicile, constructed many thousands of years ago by Seamus’s great-great-great grandfather was laid atop an heirloom bench and Brigid’s wash tub for their journey to parts unknown.

After many days of rough journey across the Irish countryside, the O’Laughlin family arrived in a port town and stowed away on a huge ship. Safely belowdeck, Seamus scavenged for leftover food from the human passengers while Brigid tended the little ones and made tasty meals from scraps. 

Weeks passed before the boat docked in a place the sailors called “Florida.” Anxious to be off of the shop, Brigid climbed to the crow’s nest undetected by human eyes and scoped out the prospects for her family.

“Seamus,” she said, returning to their hideout after breathing the fresh air and looking out over the green land, “I believe we can make our new home here.”

And Seamus, eager to make Brigid happy, agreed. The family once again loaded the wagon and set off for the interior of Florida. 

Many strange creatures accosted the family on its journey. They quickly learned to avoid lizards, snakes, and alligators. Seamus lost a finger fighting off an aggressive gecko, but Brigid nursed him back to health with herbs from Ireland that she’d packed for the trek.

Finally Seamus led the small band to a forest beside a lake. Here he and Brigid built a home and established Clan O’Laughlin on American soil. And to this day, Seamus’s family resides near Havana, Florida, in the shadow of a home occupied by kind, peace-loving humans. 

  

Faerie Dwelling Construction Continues

After a rigorous and righteous game of golf (he shot four over par), Studly Doright led the grandchildren and me in completing the building of a faerie home. 

Dominique and I placed pebbles strategically.

   
We added a door and a mossy door mat.

  

Then we headed out back to place the house on the stump of a tree that Jackson had chopped down earlier this week.
    
 

 
 After much trimming, the house was secured to its stump. 
 Tomorrow, we’ll add decorative items to welcome our wee friends.

Peace, people!

Building for the Wee Folk

Doright Manor is set in the midst of a delightful forest in the Florida panhandle. From our screened in porch we enjoy the shade of oak trees, the majesty of pines, and the splendor of magnolias, along with all of the critters that call the forest home. 

I’ve always thought it the ideal place to offer sanctuary to fairies if we provided a proper home for the wee folk. Studly Doright wasn’t convinced that we needed a fairy home, though, until he saw the one at Saint Helen’s home in Hereford, Texas, on our visit in May.

 

Studly’s brother, Shaggy Doright, built Saint Helen’s fairy house.

When we knew we’d be entertaining our Dallas grandkids for two weeks, Studly decided that constructing a fairy home would be the perfect activity.

And so it begins: 

We each had our respective tasks:

   
    
    
    
  

  
 Mine consisted of documenting the process and staying well out of the way.

We didn’t quite complete the project yesterday afternoon. Studly and I ran out of energy before reaching the finish line. But we made a good bit of headway.

Tomorrow is another day.

Peace, people!