Switched At Birth

Maintenance

Sometimes a day of mostly physical work outdoors can be immensely satisfying. Today was one of those.

The dew had dried enough to start mowing by 8 this morning. Buck hefted the heavy container of gas and filled the little riding mower for me, and then he grabbed a peanut butter sandwich and headed over to the Sugar Shack to supervise some fellows who were dumping several tons of white, crushed phosphate rock from the driveway all the way to the back door there. The gravel adds eye appeal, and has the practical benefit of providing a parking pad and clean path to get into the house without trudging through dirt or sand.

I mowed for an hour, and was able to get all of the front, the sides, and part of the back. The front yard is mostly planted oats, wheat and rye, but there are portions and swaths of centipeed. In another month, it will be time for Buck to disk under the oats, wheat and rye, spread fertilizer and lime, and plant a new crop of seeds.

Our friend, Harold, has helped with that planting day for years. I would like to think he will be able to join us this year, too, but he may still be in recovery mode. Harold had surgery yesterday to remove a portion of a cancerous right kidney. Buck and I sat with he and Louise and several other of Harold's friends before his name was called.

At 9, I cut off the mower and hit the shower. I had a hair appointment at 10, and you better believe I didn't want to miss that.

I got lucky. My friend and hair stylist, Michelle Kuehmeier, was late, so a receptionist ushered me to "The Relaxation Room." This salon, LeSan, has all sorts of spa treatments, too, although so far I have not availed myself of any of them. The room was dimly lit, illuminated mostly by flickering light from an electric fireplace (no heat, only light). The heavy, soft leather furniture was squishy and comfortable. I fixed myself a mug of chai green tea, sat back in one of the leather chairs, and became aware of quiet music playing. It sounded like a spiritual waterfall.

When Michelle came in about 15 minutes later and began apologizing for being late, I said, "Are you kidding? I would pay to come in here several times a week and just sit. This is wonderful."

Late this afternoon, I finished mowing the back yard, while Buck worked with Harvey and Mike to spread hot mix asphalt millings on places in our road between gate and house where heavy rains have rutted it and made holes.

That's Buck with his sun hat on. He and Mike are building a berm to channel water off the road and into the woods. Looks like it will make a pretty good speed bump, too.

 

Imperial Moth: Saved from Spiders for One Night of Passion in the Pines

"Look at that pretty moth before you get in the pool," Buck said. I walked over and saw that this wondrous-looking Imperial Moth (Eacles Imperialis) was on the concrete floor. Bending down for a closer look, I saw shiny strands of a spider web.

I don't know how the moth got into the screened pool enclosure, or how long it had been there. The industrious spiders were wasting no time in spinning a goassamer cage for their royal prisoner.

I thought the moth was dead. I picked it up, walked to the other end of the room and sat it down on the concrete there to examine it more closely. When I did, I felt a quiver from the moth, opened the door, and put it on the grass.

"Ants will get it if you leave it there," Buck called to me.

Not today. The moth flew. I went back into the house to fetch my camera and was ridiculously happy to find the moth still on the vertical board.

Their lives as adults are not long. I wish Eacles Imperialis a magnificent night of love.

Plan B Ain't Bad

I had planned to drive downtown yesterday to attend my first ever yoga class. The studio is situated in a lovely old house in Pensacola's historical district, fronting on Seville Square with a view of the Bay. It is led by folks with deep experience in the practice and commitment to the community. Sometimes when I decide to move out into a new space, it takes me a little while to actually get there. I'll have an idea, make a plan, and start swimming in the general direction of where I perceive shore to be. Usually I find little islands along the way and stop off for awhile before making it to my original destination!

Yesterday was like that. Some things popped up that needed my attention and presence here rather than downtown, and so I postponed visiting Breathe Yoga, but did go for an early morning walk in our woods. Not exactly a bad second choice.

I left the house a few minutes after 7 -- prime time for birds in the woods. I passed by a woodpecker busy on the side of a dead pine, and then startled a covey of quail. For the first 15 minutes, before the sun was fully up, a cool, moisture-laden breeze felt like a spa treatment for the spirit.

There is a boggy area on the path that our friend Harold and Buck refer to as a "weeping hill." It is rarely completely dry. That's where I can find pink sundews at certain times of the year, along with all sorts of bog plants, like this "hat pin".

Berries for birds, deer, turkey, squirrels and other critters have been abundant this year. Usually, in mid-August I would expect to find a few dry, shriveled berries on parched stems, not this late, lush crop.

Engage your imagination here, and maybe you can see what I saw but was not nearly quick enough to take a picture of: a large doe, surprised by this two-legged morning interloper, loped in a graceful s-curve from one side of the tree cover to the other, flying a white tail flag and turning her head back over her shoulders in my direction to take a look at me. She reminded me of a star quarterback running, untouched, through a line, carrying the mail for a touchdown.

When I see a sight like that, the tumblers of my life click back into place and the rest of my day is a pure, sweet gift.

I turned from the deep woods, crossed the front yard and touched down on asphalt to walk to the front gate.

The asphalt only goes a short way, and then turns to friendly gravel for the rest of the shade canopied walk.

Down in the stream bed, I admire lush ferns, dark water and fox grape tendrils and breathe deep the air that smells like a brilliant herbal mix of mint, sage, ginger root, eucalyptus, marjoram and ancient rotted leaf.

The stream bed is a magnet for lovely mystery flowers. I remember this one from last year, but never did find out what it is. The flowers have a waxy look and feel.

The gate. It's a sweet, simple farm gate. No electronics. When we drive in from town and have to open the gate in a rainstorm, the overhanging oak tree is almost as good as a roof.

On the way back to the house from the gate, I notice the American Beautyberry (French Mulberry) plants are beginning to show the color which will become Lady Gaga-esque in September.

Home

 

Mid-August: Time for the Big, Ugly Singing Cicadas

They're everywhere. In the trees, on the front porch, in Maggie's mouth. What?! Yep, sad to say, the otherwise gentle Maggie loves to eat cicadas.

Every night before we turn out the lights, Buck opens the sliding glass door in our bedroom and takes Maggie out for a last walk of the day. A couple of nights ago, they had completed their ritual and were just about to cross the threshold back into the house, when Maggie jumped on a cicada, who (quite naturally) made urgent , continuous tiny screaming sounds as it disappeared into Maggie's mouth. Judging from the popping and crunching sounds that came next, cicadas must be crispy critters.

I am noticing now that every morning when I let Maggie out, the first thing she does is run around on the concrete patio to examine any spot that looks like a bug. I think she is looking for more cicadas. That Maggie. Sometimes she is such a dog.

Ballerina Luna and Ssssinuous Snake

This ethereal Luna moth brings to mind a ballerina en pointe. Taken outside the garage window. The bright blue circle in the background is the cover on a weight at the end of a barbell. I can almost hear Tschaikovsky.

Black snake on concrete. The circular rust spot where an outdoor heater used to be almost looks like a sun dial.

 

"Take me in, tender woman. Take me in, for heaven's sake. Take me in, tender woman," sighed the snake. (From The Snake, by Oscar Brown, Jr., made popular by singer Johnny Rivers.)

Wild Hibiscus

Wild Hibiscus, Halberd-leaved Marshmallow, Malvaceae (mallow family), Hibiscus laevis.  Photo taken near Pensacola, Florida July, 2010.

Butterfly-pea

 
Butterfly-pea, Fabaceae (bean and pea family) Clitoria mariana Linnaecus. Photo taken near Pensacola, Florida July, 2010.

Wired, Retired and Ready to Go

When you set up a blog on Typepad, there's a place to put a description. It becomes a kind of tone-setter for the blog. From Day One, my descriptive phrase has been the quote, (variations of which have been attributed to Albert Camus), "And in the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer."

I'll always love that quote, but have changed it today into a totally non-literary description of where Buck and I are in our lives. We thought we were all settled into the "old home place" here in the panhandle Florida pine woods.

But you know what? We miss living in the mountains of Western North Carolina. We just keep coming back to it again and again.

And so, we've come to one decision in a series of decisions to be made: we're getting the old house we bought a while back, the one we call  the "Sugar Shack," ready to put on the market. Buck and I grew up around lakes, rivers and the Gulf. We spent a lot of times as children hanging our feet over the edge of a dock. But like many fantasies, the reality of a place on the water in Florida is trumped by our recollections of mountain living.

Since we can't live in three places at once -- frankly, two is a pretty big stretch -- we're going to trade our dock-on-the-bay dream for a writers'-cottage-in-the-mountains dream, where Buck can finish his novel, start another, and I can doodle around with my essays, stories and the memoir of our time at Longleaf. If we are very lucky, the "Sugar Shack" will sell quickly. Even in this slow-moving real estate market, there is almost always a buyer for a quaint place on a pretty bay with a brand-new dock and amazing sunsets.

Soon as it sells, we'll be ready to find a piece of ground and a builder in the Waynesville/Asheville/Hendersonville area of North Carolina. I can already see the look in Buck's eye that tells me he is designing a small cottage with lots of decks.

It's an exciting time for honeymooners of any age.

We are wired, retired and ready to go.

Turkeys In The Mist

It was about 8:10 when I noticed some sort of creatures out in the front yard. Grabbing my eyeglasses, I saw six big turkey gobblers.

The morning was drizzly and foggy, and was soon followed by a day of deluge. The turkeys must have watched the Weather Channel. They seemed to know a big breakfast was in order before the flood.

My camera doesn't have a large lens, and so I was surprised that this photo, shot through a glass door from a distance, produced recognizable gobblers. I must have watched them with my little binoculars for ten minutes. What a gift.

January 10, 2007 in Life at Longleaf Preserve | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack (0)

It was about 8:10 when I noticed some sort of creatures out in the front yard. Grabbing my eyeglasses, I saw six big turkey gobblers.

The morning was drizzly and foggy, and was soon followed by a day of deluge. The turkeys must have watched the Weather Channel. They seemed to know a big breakfast was in order before the flood.

My camera doesn't have a large lens, and so I was surprised that this photo, shot through a glass door from a distance, produced recognizable gobblers. I must have watched them with my little binoculars for ten minutes. What a gift.

Narnia!

We have had good "farmer's" rains recently, those large, fat drops that come down gently enough to penetrate the soil. As a result, the wildlife "all-you-can-eat 24 hour buffet" of oats, wheat, and rye that Buck and Harold planted for the forest creatures is thick and lush. With the black and brass lamp posts lining the driveway, it's kind of ethereal looking, in the way unexpected combinations can be.

Last week, a visiting grown daughter along with her teenage daughter came into the house breathlessly, smiling with the bright knowledge of inadvertent explorers, as though they had just come through a secret door: "Narnia! It looks like Narnia!"

And today the green fields have an exquisite icing of frost.

December 27, 2006 in Life at Longleaf Preserve | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)

We have had good "farmer's" rains recently, those large, fat drops that come down gently enough to penetrate the soil. As a result, the wildlife "all-you-can-eat 24 hour buffet" of oats, wheat, and rye that Buck and Harold planted for the forest creatures is thick and lush. With the black and brass lamp posts lining the driveway, it's kind of ethereal looking, in the way unexpected combinations can be.

Last week, a visiting grown daughter along with her teenage daughter came into the house breathlessly, smiling with the bright knowledge of inadvertent explorers, as though they had just come through a secret door: "Narnia! It looks like Narnia!"

And today the green fields have an exquisite icing of frost.