Archives for July 2015

Sunday provided us yet another beautiful start to our day. I woke with the sunrise and spent time outside with the dogs, wandering the campgrounds, pondering the emotional Saturday Paula and I shared.   Perhaps one of the most difficult things a person can do is try to hold back insurmountable grief. Loss is never easy. Words are never enough. I’ve been there more than once.

But to get a call on a Monday that your husband keeled over and died during his routine Doc appointment—well, what are you supposed to do with that?! Struggle through a million questions in your mind? Feel devastated, lost, alone, robbed, deserted, helpless, confused, enraged or all of the above? Or perhaps just block it out, believing it simply isn’t true; he’ll be home any time now? My heart breaks for Paula! I am just glad she decided to make this trip. Indeed, I cannot imagine going through what she just has.

We are more than ready to have some fun.   I am anxious to get this party started!

Paula’s head pops out the trailer door. “Good morning!”

Yes it is!

Today we will embark on a grand canoe adventure on the Suwannee River. We delved into an area map, plotting a reasonably do-able route that, by our estimation, should be completed in about 6 hours. Both being highly experienced paddlers, we agreed we can do it. If we ‘put in’ at Blue Springs, we can stop right here at Convict Springs, then bike back to Blue Springs to get the truck, and drive home with the bikes. We grabbed our food, water, and gear for the day. After a hug goodbye to the pups, we were rolling out of the campground, ready for a day on the river!

Rural forest and farmland, tall green pines and live oaks, the drive to Blue Springs was so beautiful! So similar to home, and not at all what you would expect from Florida! We passed by miles of horse pastures, amazing colorful fields of native flowers, farmsteads, and grazing farm animals. A perfect country drive!

We arrived to Blue Spring Park by 9 am, and prepared to launch our canoe. Paula volunteered to start our journey in the back of the boat, and we will switch half way. Decisions come easy for us. We work together well. We laughed and made light of our ‘extreme packing’ situation . Since both of us had backgrounds of being in charge and carrying the responsibility to guide a trip, it appeared we had about a month’s worth of stuff between the two of us for our 6 hour trip. Truth be told, we probably didn’t need a flashlight along, let alone two. Extra clothes and rain gear? It’s not even a full day trip! A GPS? Not needed. Compass? We’re floating downstream, probably not needed. Cameras? Well I’m not going to take one this trip. 16 granola bars? I will surely barf if I consume half of them in one afternoon….we carefully examined our pile of gear, and downsized our ton of stuff to some food and water, life vests, and paddles into the boat. By the time we got onto the water, we were both tired from laughing so much.

Gliding onto the Suwannee was borderline magical. There’s something about the waters that pulls you into a state of reflection, or a state of self-realization. My thoughts drifted to memories of sad things, and those sad things then lead me into a sort of solitude that almost echoed from bank to bank, rolling downstream. I felt comforted in my sadness, and honored those sad memories. I hoped Paula felt something similar. The river was absolutely motionless, and looked like glass. I cast my eyes far ahead of us, and studied every branch jutting out of the dark water, expecting it to rise up with huge snapping jaws like the alligators in the movies! Alas, there were many alligator stumps, and alligator rocks, but thankfully, no actual alligators.

“It’s really not warm enough for them up here, you rarely see them up here.” Paula reassured me. Yeah well, there’s always going to be a rogue gator, defying the norm, looking for cool weather food source….

“Ohhh! There’s one! Is that one?”

“No, that would be another alligator stump.”

One would think that it would be pretty easy to float down a river, but the Suwannee was moving so slowly, we did actually have to paddle. That is, when we felt like moving. It was fantastic to just float along, gazing into the banks, or up at the blue sky, nibbling on treats, reflecting on lives well lived. We were the only ones on the water. This was our river. Our time. All ours. Until the water patrol buzzed around the corner, and blew past us, sending our canoe into a less than gentle rocking motion.

Yup that same water patrol buzzed up and down the river past us at least 5 times throughout the afternoon.

Amazingly, he was about the only other boat on the water. We stopped at Peacock Spring and explored the little channel that brought you to the actual spring. It was surreal, with gangly trees sprouting out of the waters, and strange alien-like plant life I’d never seen before, and the waters were an earie blueish green. Not a soul in sight besides us. We grounded the canoe, got out and took a good stretch, and checked out the primitive campground. It was exactly like the one we saw yesterday! We pulled off to the shore several more times to explore the wilderness settings we floated by. The Suwannee doesn’t boast much development in this area at all. Except for the occasional cabin type dwelling, it was pretty remote feeling, uninhabited, and wild. We saw cranes, eagles, ducks and many jumping fish on our journey down river.

And about those fish……

A splash over here, a splash over there, here a splash, there a splash, everywhere a splash splash; giant tarpon ‘round the boat, e-i-oh-my-oh! They were everywhere! I had a hankering to drop a line in the water but didn’t have my pole. Then we floated around a corner and there was the sign:

DANGER, TARPON WATERS

BEWARE OF AGGRESSIVE FISH

Okay then! We looked at each other. Apparently the tarpon are aggressive enough to tip a canoe or kayak over, and kill you. My curiosity and hankering to fish disappeared instantly, replaced with searching for tarpon stumps and tarpon rocks along with the alligators. Some of the dark swirls were very near the canoe. Some rose up and showed some body, others simply flicked a heavy tail and dove deep. And no, they absolutely were not manatees. Paula tried to calm my fears with a crazy story of how she was the only person – ever – to be bitten by an alligator at Myakka State Park. Yeah, that really made me feel better. Not. But somehow, her story didn’t surprise me, either. Of course the next thing would be; “Two Canoeing Women, Killed by Tarpon.” Or “Two Women, Capsized By Tarpon, Eaten By Alligators.” The rest of our journey we made jokes, laughed at everything and nothing, and got downright serious in solving all of the world’s problems for a few minutes, to boot.   What we didn’t do was keep track of our time and distance.

We were lagging behind schedule. That meant power paddle. We switched seats. Because I am a strong paddler, it took some time before we got into sync again. By the time we hit Convict Springs our upper bodies were spent. Spent but we were still laughing and enjoying the day. We dragged the canoe up to the lawn and rested. The idea of a 90 minute bike ride sounded a little too ambitious, so we decided to drive my truck back to get her truck. It was somewhere between pulling the canoe up and deciding on driving that I made a major, horrible discovery. OH CRAP! I left my keys in her truck. We can’t drive back to Blue Springs. And we’re too tired to bike. But we are very smart outdoors-women with answers to all of life’s problems, so, in a moment of brazen creativity, we opted for a shuttle ride to Blue Springs.

I’m not gonna lie, I about fell asleep in the back seat of the shuttle ride while Paula and the driver chatted up a storm. But we got to the truck and back to camp in time to pick up the canoe from the launch and get back to start dinner right before dark. We shared some wine, toasted to new beginnings, good times, good friends, and more adventures together.

Friday morning as she prepared to head back south, Paula made the bold decision to “take the scenic route” and stop along the way. My friend chalked up a few “firsts” this weekend. Just a taste of what can be a whole new chapter of firsts for her. And as for me? I feel blessed to have shared time with this wonderful person. She has become a cherished friend, indeed.  Now I will continue my journey north to Minnesota, making my own scenic stops along the way.  I’m already planning our next adventure!

Thank you for reading my post. Was it inspiring? Scary? Funny? Unbelievable? I’d love to hear your thoughts! All comments are greatly appreciated. Life is an adventure—and it begins today! Why wait for an invitation to live an amazing life full of great experiences? There are lots of inspirational stories under my blog category, “PRs Amazing Outdoor Adventure Update”. If you like what you see, please let me know by “liking” my website. You can even join my tribe to automatically receive new postings ‘hot off the press’.

If you find yourself spending your time not doing what you love, I invite you to contact me for help to create your own, amazing adventure. As always, please feel free to share with others who may find meaning and value in exploring limitless possibilities with PR Brady AdVentures. Thanks again!

 

 

 

The prospect of leaving sunny Florida for chilly Minnesota is much more palatable knowing stops are being planned along the way; especially when stops include some warm weather adventure.

So when the opportunity arose to spend time in the Panhandle with a native Floridian, how could I resist?

My colleague and new friend Paula had just experienced a devastating loss, and was more than ready for a distraction from her world. She invited me on an excursion to visit her property “up north”, and it quickly turned into a full blown adventure!

Friday we left Sarasota with my three hairy kids riding shotgun, my trailer in tow and her following behind in a truck loaded with kayaks and bikes, and headed north to Mayo, Florida. The weather was perfect and the drive pulling the Toy Hauler was a breeze. The Suwannee River winds all through the area, and a quiet little place at Convict Springs is where we planned to set up camp for the duration. We arrived around dinner time. We had had a rocky departure from Sarasota that morning, so after getting the Toy Hauler situated and everyone fed, we turned in for the night.

The next morning we woke to another beautiful day. There’s something very freeing about being away from ‘the routine’. We found ourselves decompressing at the picnic table, soaking up the morning sun; she with her tea, me with my coffee, smiling and enjoying honey drizzled zucchini bread, letting the stress of last week melt away. The plan was to quickly walk the dogs, then head out early to Holton Creek Wildlife Management Area, to see her little slice of private heaven. From there, she had a couple other places she wanted to show me. If we didn’t go soon, we wouldn’t make them all.

The dogs got their walks, we prepared for our day trip and headed out of camp. Our hour drive was scenic, rustic, and suddenly a 4 wheel drive challenge. I was simply a passenger (wow, that’s a first!) and I trusted my friend completely, but I admit I was becoming a little nervous.

“Paula, are you sure we are going the right way?” I finally peeped as we joggled down the unmaintained excuse for a road.

“Well I’m pretty sure this is right. That doesn’t look familiar, though.” She replied.

There wasn’t anything to GPS, so the guessing game went on for another 30 minutes before she somehow identified a tree off to the left or something like that and announced “there it is, we are here!” and she pulled off to the edge of a thick woods.

I looked back at the road we came in on. It wasn’t much of a road. I have no idea where we are.

She leaped out of her truck bursting with energy, and dove into the woods. I jumped out, and followed close behind as she forged through thick brush, along over grown trails, and hiked up and down several hills (Oh my! Florida has some hills!). The terrain is much different than down south around the Gulf. More oak trees, pine trees, and virtually no palm trees or palmettos. It almost looks like Minnesota. Especially with those deer tracks…

She was a woman on a mission. Determined to find and face her land on her own terms. She chattered excitedly about plans she had for the land, new ideas, and old dreams. We walked the land for an hour, through the woods, and along the edge of the high river bluff, as she tried to recall where the property lines were. Finally she uncovered the evidence she was looking for. A giant game feeder, hidden in the brush.

There were deer tracks everywhere, and spent shells. Wow, this was the ideal hunting haven.

She touched the feeder, then followed an invisible trail over to another, and then another, recognizing each in its own right, as though she expected them not to be there.

My heart broke for her as she stood by the last feeder. “He was more concerned about feeding the deer half the time than shooting them.” She sighed.

The woods became very quiet. Our eyes met. She had never been to this land without him. It was good that we were here. She looked around with misty eyes, then quickly turned and headed back on another trail as I raced to catch up, giving her plenty of space to feel what she needed to feel.

Once we found the truck, we continued down the “beyond rustic” road that eventually lead to a campground. The road was there for emergencies and the camp host to have access. The campground is designed to only be accessed from the water, hosting a dozen or so primitive camp sites for paddlers to rest at while working their way down the Suwannee River. Florida sure has a strange perception of what “primitive” campsites are. There were modern bathrooms with flush toilets, showers and heat and air conditioning, and the campsites were actually screen houses raised off the ground, with electricity, lights, and grills. WHAAAAT?  Apparently this was one of many such campgrounds along the Suwannee.

We explored the entire property, marveling at how pristine of a campground it was, and how empty it was. They even provided heavy duty carts to haul gear up from the elaborate canoe launch, stairway and ramp. This Minnesotan was highly impressed!

We made our way back to the truck and back down that minimal road, on to our next stop of the day: Big Schoals State Park.

There weren’t any attendants on duty. We breezed through the entrance and drove straight to the parking area. Only a couple cars were there. We got out and wandered around the picnic area, looking for the hiking trail. Her mood was improved, she had a little spring in her step, and she was determined to take me to a special place. We found the hiking trail, and began our journey.

Within 20 minutes I was in a state of shock. WHO’D A THUNK there were actual rapids in Florida!? Paula brought me to a park that boasts the largest white water rapids in the state, an impressive Class III Rapids with 80 foot high Limestone bluffs along the river. Simply amazing. We snapped pictures of breath taking views, and marveled at the powerful Suwannee River waters surging downstream. The hiking trail could have brought us through another 25 or more miles of wooded wilderness, quite a different scene than the Gulf area. But we opted to head back and on to our next destination—the hunting camp.

Once again we were on the road, this time following coordinates she obtained from somewhere that would hopefully bring us to the hunting camp. We drove at least an hour on paved roads, but then it was back to the Florida back roads. We drove at least another hour down what she swore was a road, (but I think it was an oversized animal trail) that at times we had to keep the windows up or we’d be whipped in the face by branches. We pummeled through mud and water, over deadfalls and squeezed through some very narrow areas of the “road”.

“Paula, are you sure we are going the right way?” I finally peeped as we joggled down the unmaintained, animal trail excuse for a road.   We could barely drive 15 miles per hour safely.

“Well I’m pretty sure this is right. That doesn’t look familiar, though.” She replied. “And neither does that.“

The GPS didn’t seem to be reading correctly, so the guessing game went on for another 45 minutes. Finally she somehow identified a tree off to the right or something like that and announced “there it is, we are here!” and she pulled off to the left of a Y in the road.

I looked back at the road we came in on. It wasn’t much of a road. In fact, where the hell is the road? It had evaporated into the bushes. I have no idea where we are.

She slowly pulled up to an old steel gate across an overgrown fire road.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes, this is it! But just wait here, and I’ll go check.” And with that she bailed out of the truck, sprinted over the gate and down the fire road.

I sat waiting at the truck. My mind starts to wander.

Dang, is this where they shot Deliverance?

We’ve got about 2 hours of daylight left, tops.

Dang, my phone isn’t picking up a signal.

What if she is wrong?

Dang mosquitos! Good Grief!

What if she doesn’t come back?

Dang we slid through a whole lot of mud back there.

Suddenly she was back, and digging around in the foliage looking for a hidden key for the gate.

“I don’t understand, it’s always here.” She mumbled. We decided to leave the truck there and hike in.

Yes this is it. Look, a BATHROOM! I made fast tracks to the can.

So this is the hunting camp. Paula was engrossed with searching for something. I did not ask her what for. Perhaps it isn’t anything in particular. Her searching became more determined.

“Are you looking for something specific? Can I help?”

“Richards stuff. Where is his stuff?” she seemed anxious.

Everything in the hunting shack was beyond neat. Unbelievable neat. No way could this be a place where men hung out. It was just too neat. Or, maybe her late husbands’ buddy has already been there and gone.

Again, my heart broke for her. She canvassed the entire inside of the cabin, looking more and more distraught. Then she picked up an object.

The cabin became very quiet. Our eyes met. She had never been here without him. It was good that we were here. She just wanted something of his to hang on to. She stood in the middle of the main room with the object, looked around with misty eyes, then quickly turned and headed out the door as I raced to catch up, giving her plenty of space to feel what she needed to feel.

We walked the property in silence as the sun began to set. Where ever the heck we are this certainly is a great hunting camp! There were feeders and treestands and carefully trimmed trails for close shots with the bow. She talked about how much time he spent managing the two properties, and how they would come up together and fill the feeders, look for sign of wild game, and just relax.

We had to head out, or we’d never get out in the dark. Racing the sun at a snails pace, we made our way down that rough and tumble animal trail road–through the water and mud and deadfalls and brush and eventually hit pavement. We drove back to our camp in quiet resolve, sharing just enough small talk to keep us both awake. I sat silently in the passenger seat, realizing something epic took place today, and I was honored to have been a part of it.

Oh dear friend, I can’t imagine your pain! Losing your best friend, your childhood sweetheart, your husband of 40 something years….oh, I am so sorry for your loss!

Tomorrow will be a new day with a new adventure.

Thank you for reading my post. Was it inspiring? Scary? Funny? Unbelievable? I’d love to hear your thoughts! All comments are greatly appreciated. Life is an adventure—and it begins today! Why wait for an invitation to live an amazing life full of great experiences? There are lots of inspirational stories under my blog category, “PRs Amazing Outdoor Adventure Update”. If you like what you see, please let me know by “liking” my website. You can even join my tribe to automatically receive new postings ‘hot off the press’.

If you find yourself spending your time not doing what you love, I invite you to contact me for help to create your own, amazing adventure. As always, please feel free to share with others who may find meaning and value in exploring limitless possibilities with PR Brady AdVentures. Thanks again!

 

Counting down the days.  Can’t believe I’m going to leave all this.

As Monday grows nearer, so does my unrest about leaving Florida.  I know all too well, once I leave, there is no one to step in and pick up where I left off.  Jeff stops by to talk about what we need to do to pull the trailer out.  He mentions that rain is on the way, and I start watching forecasts non-stop.  It’s on the way here, and with that, Delay #1 presents itself.  Besides rain coming here any minute now, storms, big violent storms are being predicted north.  North meaning the Florida Panhandle and up.  High winds and heavy rain.  Not things I am willing to pull my trailer in.  We watch the forecasts carefully.  I have plans in the Panhandle.  Oh no.  The rain would be following me for the next 5 days.  It isn’t going to make sense to leave Monday.

Delay #1–Wait out the storms.

So I wait.  Hey I tried to leave, but……….guess I’ll stay awhile.  Paula and I go biking.

Things have a way of working out, don’t they?  Wednesday looks much better for travel.  Jeff arrives to pull the Toy Hauler out from its cozy woods location, and lines it up for me to have an easy pull out to the road.  We small talk, and he says he’ll be back to help once I’m ready to hook up.  Now I’m getting a bit anxious.  After all, once I get about 3 hours north, my friend Paula and I will embark on an adventure in the Panhandle.  I scramble to take care of last minute chores and details and so does she.  I can’t stop thinking about how things will be once I leave.  I keep a steady watch for the Executive Director.  Each time I see her, it’s harder to look her in the eyes.   I can barely stand how I feel about leaving.  She has become like a sister to me.  I can’t stand to leave her to manage it all alone again.  But she knows I can’t stay.  On top of everything else, now her sister is sick and in the hospital, and with that, Delay #2 presents itself.

Delay #2—Being there

There is no one to “mind the store” Thursday so she can visit her sister in the hospital   There’s no way I would leave her in the lurch when she needs to be with her family.  God knows if I had family I’d want someone to be there for me.  I talk with Paula.  She is fine with us leaving later. It’s agreed, I’ll stay a few days more to help manage things so Laney can spend time with her sister, then we’ll leave.  Perfect opportunity for one last Wednesday night drum circle.

Friday, 7 a.m. comes bright and early, with staff on site.  Paula and I look at each other.  It’s time!  Jeff arrives, checks and airs up the tires. We discover I’ve been pulling around the Toy Hauler with the wrong tire pressure in my truck tires.  He is a genius cowboy ranch guy and I am totally indebted to him!  He leaves to take care of some projects.  No problem, I can crank up the Toy Hauler and hook up.  Paula and her son have arrived with the kayaks and our bikes loaded on her truck.  Her son is helping get things tied in and ready to go.  I back the truck carefully to the trailer hitch and begin to turn the crank………and with that, Delay #3 presents itself.

Delay #3—The Hitch Crank is Stripped

Wow, we all stand there in a state of shock.  How can the crank be stripped already?  This trailer is way too new.  Well?  Chalk up another one up for PR’s Trailer Trauma Saga?  I call Jeff.  He arrives within minutes, and carefully examines the situation.  Yup, it’s stripped alright. So we have two choices.  Jeff can lift the trailer up on jacks to get it on the hitch, but then how would I get it off the truck if I need to on the journey home?  Or, I find a new hitch and he installs it.  One thing that has been constant during my stay this winter is the “can do it” attitude everyone has here.  Paula and I race into Sarasota to the nearest RV Dealer, and to my relief, Campbell’s RV carries the exact parts I need.  After making one last stop to Detwiler’s Market, we speed back to camp. Paula brings the new part to Jeff and her son while I make a quick trip up to the Welcome Center to drop off treats for the animals and say final good byes to everyone.  Within an hour, we should be ready to go.  Okay, an hour and a half?  Umm, so in two hours.  Well?  Lots of chickens to see.   And everyone else.

I head back to camp, where Paula is waiting.  Finally.  After trying and trying to leave, the third times a charm.  It’s just us now.  No distractions.  Nothing to stop us now.  Third times a charm.  Just load up the dogs and we are ready to go.  I start the truck.  I start the truck. Hmmmm, let me rephrase that to “I try to start the truck.”

I try. To. Start. The. Truck.

The truck won’t start.

Paula and I look at each other.

“NOOOOOoooooooooooooooo!”

I’m not sure what’s going on.  Did I leave something on when I went up to the Welcome Center?  Staying calm.  Staying calm. Jeff is gone.  It’s just me and Paula down here now.

“Jumper cables!” I cry out.  “Maybe it’s just the battery!”  In an instant I have my cables pulled out, Paula is aligning her truck next to mine and we begin trying to charge my truck.  We are a great team.

5 minutes.  Turn the key.

Nothing.

Another 5 minutes.

Nothing.

“It’s a sign Paula, I’m not supposed to leave.” We both sigh.

Another 5 minutes.

Whurrrrhh…blahhh.

Nothing.

Another 8 minutes…..turn the key…..

We are women, hear us roar!  Hear my truck roar, that is. It started!  We look at each other.

Let’s go!

It’s still Friday and we’ll reach our Panhandle destination before dark if we hurry.  A quick trailer light check and we are rolling away from my cherished winter home, heading north to Mayo Florida with Paula close behind.

On the road again, to another new adventure!

 

Thank you for reading my post.  Was it inspiring?  Scary?  Funny?  Unbelievable?  I’d love to hear your thoughts!  All comments are greatly appreciated.  Life is an adventure—and it begins today!  Why wait for an invitation to live an amazing life full of great experiences? There are lots of inspirational stories under my blog category, “PRs Amazing Outdoor Adventure Update”.  If you like what you see, please let me know by “liking” my website. You can even join my tribe to automatically receive new postings ‘hot off the press’. 

 If you find yourself spending your time not doing what you love, I invite you to contact me for help to create your own, amazing adventure.  As always, please feel free to share with others who may find meaning and value in exploring limitless possibilities with PR Brady AdVentures. Thanks again!

 

 

 

Woke up to the sad realization of what day it was.  My stomach is churning.  My heart is beating fast.  My eyes feel tight and teary. Today I will begin to leave.  It’s time to start packing.  It’s time to leave Florida.  How can I even fathom leaving?  I struggle with the thought.  My heart is here, on this rustic natural land.  My heart is here, with the people I’ve worked with side by side all winter.  My heart is here….

But it’s time to head north.  I must.  Time to head home.   Home?  Where exactly is home?  I’m not sure anymore.  I’m thinking it may be right here.

My mind is reeling, my guts are wretching.  It has been 90 degrees or more for days.  I’ve been miserably hot.  Still, I force myself to focus, and “break camp”.  The dogs watch with great anticipation.  They know something is up. Cleaning off, folding down and stacking up our outside furnishings.  Down comes the screen porch.  Down comes the dog yard.  Everything is strapped and stored in its secure place. Gone is all evidence of our comfortable home.  Soon after, I sort through the interior; putting things away, picking out things to leave behind, checking off the essential steps that must be completed prior to departure.  And I am one hot mess.

“When are you heading out?” I’m asked.

Not sure.  Planning on Monday.  I say with a sigh. Today is Wednesday.

Morning farm chores are difficult in the next few days.  Every morning my walk to do chores and back presents a new natural wonder to me.  Perhaps it’s seeing the turkeys.  Or the eagle fledglings in their nest.   Sometimes it’s getting very close to the deer in the vineyard.  Some mornings it’s simply the exquisite beauty of the dew filled spider webs along the trail.

Carrying a fresh bucket of hay, my walk down the trail is a somber one.  Sugar has been acting strange lately anyway. Now she won’t even approach me.  I coax her to me and brush her down while she munches on fresh hay.  I think she knows I am leaving.  I hug her, and tell her everything is going to be just fine.  I’ll see her again before long.  The mini horses are being strange too.  They jump and pull and cause quite a bit of commotion as I walk them from the barn to their pasture. How I love to jog with Happy.  And the boys?  Well they are just a bundle of trouble that I adore.  Maybe they notice my lack of eye contact.  Maybe they’ve caught me staring at them for long moments from afar.  Funny how animals sense these things.  But every time I look at them I almost cry.  I’m not even gone and I already miss their stubby little legs and bushy manes!

From the mini’s I head to the Welcome Center, where the bunnies wait for their morning alfalfa.  They look up at me, eager for morning greens and cuddles.  Cotton and Scarlet, delicate balls of softness.  How I want to take them home with me!  The Welcome Center–where all the action is.   I stand behind the counter, place my hands firmly on it and with arms stretched out, soak up the feel of the thick, wood counter top.  How many amazing people I had the great fortune to meet right here!  People from around the world.  People from around the neighborhood.  People who believe in a natural, farm to table lifestyle, searching for tools to help bring them closer to their own. This solid counter, the solid foundation of nature, and all things natural are all here.  Then I peek into the garbage can-turned-nesting box to see how the newest baby chicks are doing. Mama Hen looks up with a suspicious eye as I switch out their water.  The chicks are nestled tight under her fluffed bosom.  I’ve been here for 4 rounds of broody hens hatching chicks.  I will miss them all so much!

Emotions are getting the best of me. Quickly, I grab the key ring to the historic buildings, step outside and grab the chicken feed, and head over to greet the rest of the flock over at the chicken coop.  Birds bust out the door in all directions, ready to peck around the yard all day.  The third batch of babies are my favorites.  Although they are almost grown, they still follow me everywhere.  Some jump up on my arms.  The sound of chickens is so comforting.  I should tape record my babies!

Next, I open the Pioneer building, and take a long, lingering glance around the room.  Everything in this room is old.  Even the air smells old.  The story starts here.  The family started their journey with this cabin.  It chokes me up just imagining having roots and a legacy that can be traced back so far. Taking a deep breath, I cross the yard over to the Museum.  I unlock the big wood door, swing it wide, prop it open with the rustic, weathered pole, and pull the big rubber mat across the entryway.  I enter and flick, flick, flick the light switch until the room illuminates.  Walking through the Museum is like taking a giant step back in time.  Hundreds of artifacts displayed here tell the Cracker story.  I start up the boom box, locked and loaded, ready to play a constant loop of Cracker Cowboy tunes.  Cracker Museum ambiance. Standing in the room, I sigh and look around at the amazing piece of history I am leaving.

On the way to the Tatum House I stop at the corral and lean against the rail.  Visions of our March Festival come alive as I study the old, original sugar cane press and boiler, remembering the boiling, steaming brew that cooked all day.  Beyond the far rail, sugar cane is growing tall in the big “kitchen garden”, along with a plethora of fresh, organically grown produce.  I will miss that too.  And next to it, Paula’s ‘work in progress’ pollinator garden.  My chest fills with worry about where funding will come from to complete that garden.

As I continue to the Tatum House, there he stands, just looking at me from across the yard, grunting.  Head down, unlocking everything, my mind drifts off, recalling the unique outdoor weddings Ivy and I took pictures of on this enchanting, rustic porch. Yes, my heart is heavy as I make my way across the grounds to take care of morning chores.  Even Squirt the pig seems to know, as he continues to stand and grunt at me.  I finally greet him with my last carrot, and walk away.

Chores are done.  I return the key ring to the office wall, and make the long walk back to the Toy Hauler. My daily routine will soon be no more.  Yes, I leave on Monday.  The ground becomes a blur as tears fill my eyes.

Can’t believe I’m going to leave all this.

 

Thank you for reading my post.  Was it inspiring?  Scary?  Funny?  Unbelievable?  I’d love to hear your thoughts!  All comments are greatly appreciated.  Life is an adventure—and it begins today!  Why wait for an invitation to live an amazing life full of great experiences? There are lots of inspirational stories under my blog category, “PRs Amazing Outdoor Adventure Update”.  If you like what you see, please let me know by “liking” my website. You can even join my tribe to automatically receive new postings ‘hot off the press’. 

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