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| The moon setting over my brother's driveway |
I stopped at my brother's place on the way to see my Mom. He lives in the part of Florida where I was born; mostly rural, and driving through the little town, apparently untouched by time. Landscapes dotted with cows and single majestic oaks under a half-dome of cerulean blue so wide you can see the curvature of the earth. I crack the back windows and tip the sun roof up so the flow of warmish air swirls all around me. I feel free and relaxed and I savor that because it will not last.
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| An oak hammock dripping with spanish moss |
In the morning I walked through the oaky woods. I found a crow feather and tucked it into a button hole on my jacket pocket. Crow medicine is very powerful and to find a feather is good fortune. I will take it as a totem with me as a travel on. Alone in the oak hammock I marvel at the abundant mosses hanging like earthly chandeliers. There is a carpet of oak leaves, reindeer moss and fallen weathered wood with seminole and rebel blood beneath it.
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| Planted pines of long ago fail to mature as expected |
The woods have a perfume of slash-pine turpentine and burning brush. There are
Northern Flickers as big as ducks. They fly in a wavy up-and-down pattern and move up a tree with a mechanical ratcheting bob. High above, Turkey Vultures (called "buzzards" here) ride the thermals in an open descending spiral. There are little greenish birds in the pines...I wonder if they are Vireos. A deer passes through the woods beyond the pines and disappears, her tail flashing white with caution.
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| I love this field and could stay in it all day and never be bored |
Before I bought Chickory, I looked nearby for property. This is what I wanted, right here what you are looking at in this photograph. Looks like not much but it breaks my heart with beauty. My father wisely counseled me against it. He thought it was too far from my husband, and knew the pull to the land would make the trips home fewer and longer between. I do love the mountains and streams of north Georgia, but this big view is not possible where I live and I miss it .
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| a scrubby palmetto stands alone in the straw |
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| One more pass through the woods before I get in the car |
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Here you will find the best fresh-squeezed on the 301
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I stopped at the old Citra Orange Shop and got some fresh OJ for breakfast and just looked around a bit. The old florida cracker houses behind it reminded me of being a child playing barefoot on a painted wooden porch. The roads are sand-based mixes with oak leaves. I love interior Florida. Too many people only see the beaches or DisneyWorld and don't know about it. It is a landscape they speed through, indifferent to its charms and abundant wildlife. This is a birders paradise, thought I, as the familiar whir of duck wings filled the space above me.
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| A tent revival has pulled into town offering big top salvation |
In this lonesome and timeless moment I reflected on Flannery O'Connors observation of the "Christ haunted south". She would have loved the sight of this trailer and would have been the perfect companion to take to the witnessing of healing, miracles and deliverance. I put the big top in the rear view, inserted myself into the north florida autobahn and sucked in as much landscape and air as I could. There is no time, no sun or wind or light, in an institution.
