Tentative chirping
Followed by full throated song
Forest symphony
Faint wood smoke curling
From a neighboring chimney
Pairs with strong coffee
Scant breeze stirs the lake
Fish send out rippling signals
While frogs sun on logs
Tag: Doright Manor
Accidental Beer
I like beer, but I normally don’t have one with my lunch. Yesterday I did, but it was an accident.
Studly Doright has me confined to the house as we await the delivery of a generator.
“When it arrives,” Studly said, referring to the generator. “Have them put it in the garage.”
“When do you expect this generator to be delivered?” I inquired.
“Oh, sometime this week.”
I waited all day Monday, finding ways to keep busy around Doright Manor. Tuesday went the same way. Wednesday came and went with no generator in sight.
I’m a restless soul. I drive into Tallahassee or Havana on most days just to explore or shop or mingle with strangers in coffee shops and cafés. So to be stuck at Doright Manor, as lovely as it is, for three straight days has been like a weird purgatory. I’m comfortable and well fed, but I’m going slightly crazy.
Yesterday at noon while awaiting the generator’s arrival I decided to eat one of the tuna salad kits I’d purchased as part of my Hurricane Irma supplies. Since the salad only had 200 calories I figured I could have a Virgil’s brand root beer to accompany my meal.
I opened the bottle and took my lunch into the den where I settled into my favorite chair to enjoy Rachael Ray’s television program as I dined. The tuna was decent; although, not up to my own homemade tuna salad, but the root beer tasted off. I thought perhaps that tuna and root beer might not be compatible tastes, but I kept eating and drinking.
It was only when I thought to check the caloric content of the root beer that I realized I was drinking an actual beer (Smithwick’s) and not a Virgil’s. Boy, did I feel like a complete idiot!
Much is written these days about a mindful approach to living. Maybe I should start paying attention.
In my defense, both drinks were packaged in bottles….
Sunday Post-Irma
Okay, I promised no more posts about Hurricane Irma, but that was before I had to go help Studly Doright clean up after her. Don’t you just detest having guests who wreck the place?
She sheared off one of our smaller oak trees, so Studly set off with his trusty chain saw to cut the tree into pieces small enough to suit our trash pickup guys.
We loaded everything into our little trailer and I delivered the branches to the curb area. We don’t actually have curbs out here, but if we did that’s where the processed branches would be.
We left the small stump. It looks like a potential home for fairies to me.
We really are fortunate that more trees weren’t lost during Irma’s visit. She wasn’t a great houseguest, but she could’ve been much worse.
Peace, people.
Bucolic Wonderings
I had to get some extra keys made for Doright Manor yesterday, so I drove over to Home Depot in Tallahassee. After paying for the keys I wandered in the direction of the garden section to dream about plants I could buy and eventually kill. I don’t exactly murder plants, but those in my care don’t have much of a chance at longevity.
Before I made it to the plants, though, I found this beauty.
It’s a double decker chicken coop, and the moment I saw it I fell in love with the idea of having a couple of chickens.
I’d name them Laverne and Shirley and I’d watch the pair strut around their little coop, clucking contentedly. I’d read to them excerpts from The Little Red Hen, and Chicken Little. I’d sing “The Farmer in the Dell,” and make up other songs featuring chickens. “Oh Chicken, My Chicken” comes to mind as a possible title. We’d be so happy in our bucolic paradise.
But reality set in and I knew I’d end up resenting Lavern and Shirley. They’d be dependent on me, insisting that I stay home and clean the coop when I wanted to go to a movie or for a spa day. Their once charming clucking would soon seem strident and accusatory.
“You never take us anywhere!” They’d complain. And they’d be right. Chickens just aren’t good shopping companions.
So I shook off the idea of chicken ownership and went on back to the plants. So, do I want to eventually kill a ficus or a rose bush? Decisions, decisions.
Farewell Irma
Doright Manor sailed through the rigors of Hurricane Irma with flying colors. Granted, by the time Irma reached our neighborhood outside of Tallahassee, Florida, she’d been relegated to the rank of tropical depression, so we experienced a markedly weakened storm compared to our neighbors in south Florida.
Studly Doright and I only had to deal with a loss of electricity for roughly twelve hours on Monday. As soon as I heard the click signaling a return of power I raced Studly down the long hallway from the den to our bedroom and claimed the shower before he had even registered that we were officially back on the grid. Score one for Nana!
Studly worked from home all day, coordinating his workforce to assist one another in getting roofs repaired and trees cleared, as well as determining who needed generators and fuel. I got a little emotional listening to these good folks detailing what damages their properties had sustained and always reluctantly agreeing to accept assistance. A special team will be deployed to go help out employees in the hardest hit areas so they in turn can better serve their respective communities.
When the weather cleared this afternoon, but before we had our power restored, Studly and I drove into Tallahassee and checked on his office. We were pleased to find the electricity working there, so we charged our phones and got a cold drink from the refrigerator. On our way back to Doright Manor we had to pull over for a convoy of utility repair vehicles from an adjoining state. Again I choked up thinking about those people who go out in inclement weather to keep us going.
Thanks again to everyone who said a prayer or sent positive vibes or just took a moment to think about us as we waited for, and then endured the storm. Hopefully I’m through with hurricane stories this year! Farewell Irma! I’m having a Smithwick’s straight from a fully functioning fridge in honor of her departure.
Peace, people.
Not that Desperate
Doright Manor where I reside with my husband of forty one years, is in a rural neighborhood about ten miles west of Tallahassee, Florida. We have a Havana, FL, address, but we are only slightly farther from Tallahassee than we are from the little town of Havana. On most days I drive into Tallahassee at least once to walk, shop, or sometimes to take in a movie.
The knowledge that Hurricane Irma will hit near us early next week has me feeling antsy, and even though I’ve already shopped for supplies I began to worry that I might have forgotten something. So yesterday I drove over to see the movie “It!” and followed up with a trip to a Publix grocery store.
My hope was that I could purchase some canned meat meals, such as tuna or chicken with crackers and mayonnaise, that require no refrigeration. I’d looked a couple of days ago, but the store was completely out of those items. The clerks thought they’d get some more in before the storm, so I deemed it worth a trip.
Here is what the canned meat aisle looked like:
I wasn’t even a little bit tempted by these delicacies:
Canned squid! Who knew? I just know I’m not that desperate.
The store was busy, but the mood was generally buoyant, even though now it looks as if Tallahassee will get a bigger piece of the storm than was previously predicted.
Studly Doright and I still aren’t sure if we’ll evacuate ahead of Irma. I’m leaving the decision up to him. I call him Studly Doright for a reason, so I’m in his capable hands.
Please send good vibes out to all those in the direct path of the storm, especially to one of my British blogging friends and her husband who are vacationing in Florida. They had to evacuate the Keys and may have to go to a shelter in Miami if their hotel has to be vacated.
Thanks for reading. I have absolutely the best followers. Peace, people.
Hurricane Watch, September 2017
Irma is coming, and she’s nobody’s favorite aunt. We’re watching her closely here at Doright Manor in Havana, Florida, and contemplating our options.
A Facebook friend from Melbourne, FL, sent me a link to a weather website that allows one to view a storm’s projected path and wind speeds in three hour increments.
Just type in a location and the animated map will indicate when that area might be impacted and how long residents might be dealing with the brunt of the storm.
Below is the projection for Havana from late Sunday to early on Monday:
Pretty cool, huh? Of course these are all still projections.
If Irma had a heart she’d just dissipate and go frolic as some lighthearted waves in the Atlantic. Go away Irma! We have nothing you need!
Be prepared and stay safe!
Peace, people.
Succulent Succulents
I had a wonderful time hanging out at Tallahassee Nursery yesterday. I’d signed up for a workshop on the planting and care of succulents, and thoroughly enjoyed myself. I might’ve even learned a thing or two.
Here was the first container I selected, but it didn’t have a hole in the bottom to facilitate drainage, so I had to find a hole-y one.
The event was well attended with long tables holding all the requisite supplies set up under sprawling oak trees:
After selecting my plants I arranged them in my hole-y planter and looked around the delightful grounds of Tallahassee Nursery with friends. That’s Julie admiring a gazing ball.
We went for lunch afterwards and then I headed home to Doright Manor. Here is the end product of my workshop experience. It wasn’t the prettiest arrangement created, but it’s mine. Now all I have to do is keep the plants alive.
Peace, people!
Concussed Bird
On Sunday afternoon Studly Doright rescued a little bird from a fate worse than death, namely spending the night in our garage.
The little guy and his mate had flown inside while Studly puttered around with the cars and he watched the bird slam headlong into one of the windows.
After a few trial and error attempts Studly finally had the bird safely in hand.
The poor thing was stunned, so we put him on top of Studly’s car until he could gather his wits.
I couldn’t resist stroking his soft feathers.
Then, in the blink of an eye he was gone, fully recovered from his escapade.
Safe travels, little guy.
Last Day
Today I'm driving the Texas grandkids to the airport in Panama City, Florida, for their flight home to Dallas, Texas. Neither of have them have ever flown unaccompanied, and there are some jitters. Not on their parts, mind you, but underneath this calm exterior I'm going a little nuts.
We've had a good time these past two weeks spoiling these kiddos. Doright Manor will be awfully quiet once they leave. 
Praying for Eyebrowz 