Tuesday, December 3, 2013

Hidden In Plain View

With the ease of the camera in the phone these days, I've gotten lazy but the light this morning required the real camera. It is a gorgeous day here in Lloyd, Florida. Yesterday Owen asked me how old my town was. I told him it was pretty old. "Why it so old?" he asked.
I could not answer that one. Not the first question he has asked me for which I have no answer and it will certainly not be the last.

The air is shimmering and the light is pouring over everything and making even this old town seem newly born and I need to get out in it, I need to let it all pour over me before I have to go to town and deal with the traffic, the choices, the decisions, the people. Our new branch library has sky lights and windows galore and I will hold that stop as my carrot on the stick to get me through the rest of it. And then I will come back to Lloyd, this old place. Every time I drive back into the rather vague confines of its boundaries, I can feel my heart expand inside of me a little bit. The giant ancient oaks, the mysterious tiny, hidden places, the way the light blesses us in these cool days of December whether we live in big houses or small, new ones or old, the way we come together at the post office, holding the door for each other, "Good day, hello, how are you?" the camellias blooming, the petals of the sasanqua carpeting the ground below them in pink and raspberry, the roosters calling, the hog dogs barking, the leaves turning, loosening, dancing to the ground.
I think of all the people who pass us by on the interstate who have no idea what lies less than a half mile from the exit which they will never, ever take unless they need to stop at the truck stop to pee and get a sandwich, and even then, they will see none of it but the huge paved parking lot, they will not know the secret of where I live and I also wonder about the people who engineer the trains past my yard and if, as winter strips the trees of their leaves, they look at my house and wonder about us.

This world is filled with mysteries, most of which we will never, ever know of, even the ones illuminated so brightly that the eye cannot contain all of the light which pours down upon them. I think about that and it cheers me, it delights me to know I live in such a place and even living here, I do not know the half of them.


  1. Oh this is gorgeous. It sounds like heaven. This adjusted my frequency today. Thank you.

  2. A beautiful piece of writing about the magic of a place, and how it's the little things that add up to the big things. Have you read Blue Highways by William Least Heat Moon? It's about getting off the highway, to the blue lines on the map, through small towns and real places like Lloyd.

    And your picture is gorgeous. There are so many qualities of light aren't there?

  3. I made that picture my desktop background :)

  4. Maybe you and Owen could find out some stuff about the start of Lloyd at the Library?

    That new header photo takes my breath away.

  5. Beauty. Sheer beauty.

    I'm a sucker for a new header photo! They are always soooo good.

  6. In the fall, we drove from TX to FL to bury my father in law. When we drove past Lloyd on the interstate, I secretly wished I could stop and see all the sights you describe so beautifully. It would have made the trip suck so much less.

  7. Ms. Vesuvius- Good! Because that light did the same for me. it was incredible.

    Mel- I just lucked out on that picture. I have tried to read that book at least twice. I don't know why I've never been able to get into it.

    SJ- And that makes me so happy.

    Jo- No library in Lloyd. Maybe in Tallahassee or Monticello. Good idea.

    Denise- Sometimes you have to change the curtains, right?

    Ashley- Aw. I'm sorry you had to go bury your father-in-law. You should have gotten off the interstate and just had a little drive-around. You probably would have found me.

  8. That photo is gorgeous and your writing spectacular. Really. You've outdone yourself.

  9. Beautiful post. Love the optimism inherent in all this. I think we all read blogs to get at those mysteries, don't we? To experience another's life, in whatever way we can? I feel like I get a little window onto Lloyd whenever I visit you here!

  10. We have stopped at the truck stop for years on our way from AL to FL, now the other way around. This last trip I looked at that stop through new eyes. I wish, like Ashley, wish I could have stopped to see the sights of Lloyd.

    The picture is beautiful.

  11. Sorry, I got wish happy in the last sentence. It's early.

  12. Elizabeth- When I pulled up those photos I thought, "This is really special." I never know. Thanks.

    Steve Reed- Just as you give me a window onto London. And sometimes places like Turkey. Thank you.

    Gail- That truck stop is sad. Sad, sad, sad.

  13. This last trip we didn't actually go in the truck stop we went next door, still sad. Before I started reading your blog, I did think there was nothing else there.

  14. One of these days, I'll take a ride down your street and see Lloyd.


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