Fri, 8 Jul 2011, 06:21 PM (-06:00)
A strange thing happened as we drove along the Florida panhandle yesterday. Liquid water started falling from the air. Liquid water. Falling out of the sky. Making the highway wet. Imagine that.
I’d seen this happen before, but that was a long time ago.
And now here we are, driving in from the west, and this amazing thing happens before our very eyes. Windshield wipers driving their fastest. Cars pulling off the road. Spray thrown into a swirling mass by tractor trailer tires. Traffic slowing to a crawl.
I’m here to tell you. I’ve seen it myself. It can happen.
Thu, 7 Jul 2011, 08:01 AM (-06:00)
1. Bed
“This bed is so comfortable,” Trudy said as she rolled over in the morning.
I mumbled in agreement. There’s nothing like a king side bed (even if you don’t get all of your half).
2. Cereal
“This is the best raisin bran I’ve ever had,” said Trudy as she drank the last of the milk in her bowl.
I sat down at the table nodding and spread the cream cheese on my toasted bagel.
3. Egg
“This egg is so good,” Trudy said, finishing off a hard boiled egg.
You can’t go wrong with hard boiled eggs, and we’ve got two in our ice chest for the road today. So I nodded in agreement.
4. Biscuit
“This biscuit is so good,” Trudy said, wiping the jelly off her fingers.
I smiled. And I nodded.
5. The Bottom Line
As we walked down the hallway back to our room to get our suitcases and set out on our last leg to Cocoa Beach, I turned to Trudy.
“Are you enjoying the vacation,” I asked.
“I am!”
Wed, 6 Jul 2011, 11:54 AM (-06:00)
“Can you find LSU on the map?” the fair and industrious Trudy asked from behind the wheel. “That should be a great place for lunch.”
Just a while before, we had crossed the Atchafalaya Basin on Interstate 10 [link]. The 30 minute long kachunk-kachunk as you drive along the bridge (at exactly the posted speed limit) has been repaired, and the crossing was as smooth as glass.
Coming into Baton Rouge from the west, it isn’t hard at all to find LSU [live purple, love gold]. Cross the Mississippi, and turn south at the first exit after the river. (You can’t miss the river. It’s a big one.) After some industrial looking lots and some tree-lined neighborhoods and then Tiger stadium [link] with purple and gold banners flying everywhere, we found the perfect place [link to the Mellow Mushroom/Baton Rouge].
We checked our email. I filled out my timecard for next week and sent out a note to folks at work that I won’t be back for a week.
“We must look like such geeks,” Trudy mumbled, the both of us sitting with our noses in our laptops as we waited for our pizza to arrive.
No. I think not. Not here. Not at the LSU Mellow Mushroom. We don’t look like geeks here.
Tue, 5 Jul 2011, 07:19 AM (-06:00)
“Did you pack eight days of clothes?” I asked the fair and industrious Trudy.
She looked at me silently for a moment and then answered, “Yes.”
I was wondering if she was thinking that we’d stop and do laundry at some point.
“My suitcase isn’t large enough for eight days of clothes,” I said, regretting again that I’d bought that compact little thing instead of one size larger.
She looked at me silently for a moment and then answerd, “We have lots of other suitcases and duffle bags.” And she pointed at the closet behind me.
It was late. Of course, I thought to myself somewhere in the recesses of my lizard brain, we’re flying Southwest [bags fly free].
That was last night. This morning, after the mammal brain in me had a chance to sleep, when I looked at our suitcases packed full of clothes and the laundry basket filled with shoes and other miscellaneous bulky things that we are taking with us, I realized why she gave me the silent looks she did.
You see, we’re not flying Southwest. And we won’t be checking any bags. … Because we’re not flying. We’re driving. And the car will have lots of room—plenty of room for eight days of clothes.
Sat, 2 Jul 2011, 01:09 AM (-06:00)
There’s a monkey in the tree over there. Hanging from the branches. Swinging from limb to limb. Oh … my mistake. It’s a squirrel taunting our dog.
There’s a clown on the bench outside. Hopping and rolling. Playing with a round ball. Trying to eat it. Oh … my mistake. It’s a grackle with a Burr Oak acorn hat.
Tue, 28 Jun 2011, 08:51 PM (-06:00)
Late morning: the Lesser Goldfinches have finally come, perched and pecking at the dried cone flower seed heads.
Early afternoon: A Wren fluffs in the bird bath outside the study window, flying drops of water glistening in the sunlight.
Late afternoon: A Bluejay just made off with one of our cherry tomatoes—time to go pick the rest.
Early evening: Four Eastern Screech Owls glide among the branches of the Ash tree.
Late evening: Trudy is sitting at her computer writing up board meeting minutes. Ben is eating cereal with strawberries and reading Howard Zinn.
Not a bad day, this.
Mon, 27 Jun 2011, 12:57 AM (-06:00)
And so why is it that I am sitting here now?
I mean, if we rose early and went for a hike (as we did), and if I worked outside in the dirt (as I did), digging and shoveling and lifting and dropping, shouldn’t I be at least a tiny bit sleepy?
So then just why is it that I am sitting here, my window perhaps the only one on the block lit up at this hour, when I should be on the other side of the house, lying next to the fair and industrious Trudy (who is fast asleep, I’ll have you know).
Just why is it?
…
Shall we give it another try?
Mon, 27 Jun 2011, 12:45 AM (-06:00)
1. Morning
In the cool of the morning, we went for a hike.
Through a Juniper/Persimmon woods. Up and down, in and out of ravines. Following a well-marked trail. Trudy went first. Guinness followed with his tail wagging most of the time. I brought up the rear. By the end of three miles, the sun had climbed into the sky, and Guinness was dashing from one spot of shade to the next, his tail no longer wagging. Our faces were all smiling when we returned to the place where we had begun.
It was a good way to start the day.
2. Evening
In the cool of the evening, I dug in the dirt.
Taking advantage of the soft ground from last week’s modest rain. Laying down cedar logs. Making a small terrace where we might sit in the shade in the late afternoon. And sit there we did, in the late afternoon, admiring the soft ground and the cedar logs and the shade, sweat running down our sides.
It was a good way to end the day.
Sat, 25 Jun 2011, 07:16 AM (-06:00)
Meet me in the middle of the day.
Let me hear you say everything’s ok.
Bring me southern kisses from your room.
Meet me in the middle of the night.
Let me hear you say everything’s alright.
Let me smell the moon in your perfume.
—Steve Forbert, Romeo’s Tune
Saturday morning, after having seen him at a small cafe the night before. The signed Jackrabbit Slim CD sits on the desk. “For Trudy and Dave,” it says, with a great cruly-wavy autograph in black.
The song plays loudly the speakers in the study. He walks back into the bedroom. She reaches out to him.
“Oh baby, it’s ok,” she says as she kisses him.
The dog barks and paws at them. They open up their hug and let him in so that he can join in the Saturday morning hug.
And now it’s time go get eggs at the Farmer’s Market.
Thu, 16 Jun 2011, 04:39 PM (-06:00)
1. Toad
Its almost dark. The heat of the day is finally letting go. Sweat is dripping down my sides, but the cooler air of evening feels good, and the breeze feels absolutely wonderful.
Something scurries on the ground, making straight for my feet. A mouse!? I’ve never seen mice here. I stomp my feet, and it dashes under the bench.
I turn around. There’s a toad sitting in our ground level water tray. It’s our “toad bath”. They find them. They can smell the water.
It sits in the water a minute or so and then hops out, making for the underbrush beneath the Monterey Oak.
2. Owl
There are chattering/scratching sounds in the branches of the Ash tree. In the fading light of dusk, the sounds are familiar. I whistle my Eastern Screeh Owl A-song [audio].
The chattering stops, and I can see three owl silhouettes in the branches looking down at me, bobbling their heads [video].
I whistle again, and the owls come gliding silently out of the branches, across my head and into the branches of a Red Oak on the other side.
The toad is nowhere to be seen.