I Went Down To The River To Pray

Mr. Moon and I paddled down the river today after we ate our bacon and French Toast and then we paddled up the river a little way too. I have to say that for someone who only canoes about once every two or three years, I am a fine paddler. On the right side. Not the left so much but I can get where I'm going, slow and steady and thoughts of Sacajawea fill my mind, and also that song about going down to the river to pray and I felt like I was in church on that river today, even if I am not an Indian maiden, getting Lewis and Clark safely across the country with a baby strapped to my back.
Here are a few things we saw:

A few houses which do not suck. No. They do not suck. They are on the river and in the jungle and that would do for me.

An osprey. There are so many ospreys here that after awhile you almost want to say, "Y'all! Shut up with your melodious whistle! I get it! You're magnificent birds of prey. Okay!"
No. Not really. You don't realize how big they are until they take wing.


I took this picture when we beached at a park and got out to stretch our legs. I just wanted to see if the blue of the sky would show up as it really looked.
Almost. Almost.


One of my favorite birds- a pelican- floating on the water by the old railroad bridge. When I was a child, the DDT had practically wiped them out and I am always thrilled to see them, those pterodactyl-like birds, so clumsy-looking, so brilliant in flight.

A view of the bridge from underneath it.

And beside it.

The trains still run over it, several times a day. When he was alive and lived in Roseland, my grandfather would actually stop what he was doing when one went by to count the cars. Retirement is fun!

We probably canoed for a couple of hours and when we got back we were hot and so we jumped in the pool. Which was...perfect. In fact, I was floating around on a big inner tube thing and I said, "Glen, this is one of the best days of my life."
And I was serious as I could be.

We got dressed and went to lunch in Sebastian at a place over the river. I have abandoned all dietary rules and let me just say- it's a lot of fun. Screw it. I'm on vacation.
There were signs up at the restaurant asking us not to throw food to the birds from the windows. This guy

landed right next to us and complained loudly about that rule. "Fuck that shit!" he screamed. "Feed me! I see those potato chips! Your fat ass doesn't need them and I DO!"
I followed the rules. I did not feed him. Now I feel sort of bad.

Of all the kids I went to elementary school with in Sebastian there is exactly ONE whom I know how to get in touch with. His name is Bobby Judah and here's his place of employment:

We stopped by there today to see if he was there and to see if they had any crab for us to eat but no, there was no Bobby and no crab. Last time I was in town I went to see him and every person I asked about that I could remember he would scratch his head and say, "Oh, he died." Or, "Oh, she died." I swear. I think Bobby and I might be the two last people out of our class left. And I hear that Bobby was in a terrible accident about ten months ago and is just now back to work. Too bad he wasn't there today. I really wanted to show him to Glen. I hate to say this and I should not, but Bobby was the least attractive child I had ever seen. He had a rather unpleasant face and on top of that, he had warts EVERYWHERE! Bless his heart.
The last time I saw him, he had not changed much at all, only gotten stouter and thankfully, had somehow gotten rid of the warts.
I hope he doesn't read this. If he does- Hey Bobby! Didn't mean it! Love you!

Almost directly across the road from the Judah fish house is one of my favorite houses in the entire world. A teacher who worked with my mother lived there and her name was Garnet Hanshaw. She and her husband lived in this house and I have held it as a standard against every other house I've ever seen. It was built in 1911 by an engineer on the Flagler Railroad.
It has held up well.

And hey! It's for sale! Got $1,599,000.00?
It could be yours.
Sigh. I am resigned to the fact that it will never be mine in this lifetime. But oh- isn't it a beauty?

When we got back from Sebastian, I took the camera out for a photo tour of Roseland.
Isn't this fascinating?
I know it is.

Anyway, here are some pictures from that:

This is the UGLY ASS HOUSE that was built on my grandfather's riverfront property. After Granddaddy died, I actually had some inheritance money and I begged my mother to let me know before she sold the house and property. To give me a chance to buy it.
She did not take me seriously.
I am not sure I'll ever get over this. Especially with that UGLY ASS HOUSE on that beautiful lot. It's for sale too. I ain't even callin' the number.

Now if that's not insult enough to my grandfather's memory, this is:

What? What? WHAT????!!!!

Yeah. In there somewhere is my grandparent's humble little cottage which was their retirement home. It wasn't luxurious in any way, shape or form but it was lovely in its simplicity. There was a Chinaberry tree out front and a front porch that Granny and Granddaddy would sit on at sunset with their tiny coca-cola's wrapped in a paper towel and after the sun went down, Granddaddy would call to the owl who perched in the tree and whistled back to him.
(I'm sobbing here. Can you tell?)
But to be honest- if I lived in that house now and that UGLY ASS HOUSE was across the street, I'd close in the front porch and plant palms in front of it too.
But "Cat House"?
Don't ask me.
Oh well. Granddaddy is dead and not apt to come back and worry about it.

Now actually, this is my favorite house on the river in Roseland. Okay. One of them. If this one was for sale, I'd call the number.


Now this picture isn't even worth showing you but here it is.

That was the house that Granddaddy built for my mother, my brother and me on the back of his property. You can't see the house now and that's a good thing because it is the ugliest brown you ever did see. The giant old cedar trees are gone and someone's put in a fireplace and I can't even imagine what it looks like inside. And frankly, I have no interest in knowing.

This was Joy and Ralph Holtzclaw's store. They lived behind it. You could buy cheese, Lebanon bologna, pop-sickles and canned soup there. Joy had long, long white hair which she wore twisted up on a bun on top of her head. She cut the meat and cheese with the same knife she'd use to cut your pop-sickle in half if you and your best friend could only come up with three cents apiece to buy a six-cent pop-sickle.
I was not overly fond of the banana flavor.
I guarantee you that if you opened those wooden doors, there would be the Sunbeam Girl painted on the screen.

Here's the hardware on that door. I had no idea:


The road from my house to Lucille Ferger's house.



It was paved then and it's paved now. Lucille and I would do that thing where we'd say, "I'll walk you home," and then at the end of the road the other one would say, "I'll walk you home." This could go on for hours. I have no idea why I was such a fat kid. But I was.

Lucille's house. She lived here with her mother, father, twin sister Helen and brothers Mickey, Dickey, and Paul. I am not kidding you.
There was a giant Canary Island date palm in front of the house then and once, I accidently kicked a downed frond and the spine went ALL THE WAY THROUGH MY TOE! After my grandmother tortured me by trying to pull it out, Granddaddy had to drive me all the way to Vero to the nearest emergency room so that someone there could do it successfully. On the drive to the hospital, while I had a palm frond spine sticking all the way THROUGH MY TOE, he instructed me on what to do should I ever be in the car with him when he suddenly DIED! (Turn the wheel to the side of the road and press on the brake pedal.)
No. This had nothing to do with my belief that something bad is going to happen at any moment. Nothing at all.

And well, that's it. The end of the pictures of one of the very best days of my life.
Except for this one:

Yeah. Mr. Honey (Moon) fishing on the dock at sunset.

What a day. What a practically-perfect day. And now I'm going to cook okra and tomatoes and heat up some crab legs that we'll eat with melted butter and Crystal hot sauce.

I can't begin to tell you how healed I feel, how sweet this life of mine is right this second.
I can't believe I have two full more days here.

I can't believe how insanely lucky I am- not just to be here- but to finally be open to it, to accept it all from the love to the light.

Why me?
I have no idea.

The train is whistling. I wonder how many cars this one has. I will not count them. But I am thinking of my grandfather who would have.

Night-night, y'all.
Love...Ms. Moon