I walked down to the gate on the ranch where the cows and a few horses and the one sheep live which makes my walk three miles and that was enough for me. Although the air is a bit dryer it is still hot and I came home drenched and then later, when I went back outside to do some yard work and clean the hen house, I immediately began to sweat again and within half an hour I was done, not with what I had hoped to get accomplished but with the heat. I got so testy with my husband when he asked me a simple question that he asked me most kindly if there was something he could do for me or if he'd done something that was making me angry and I apologized and reassured him that it was the heat, not him and I finished up the job I was doing and came inside. I just cannot handle the heat anymore and that is not a terrific thing for a woman who lives in North Florida.
One of the things I did do when I was outside was to pick what I swear to GOD has to be the last of the green beans. This is like Cher's many "last tours." I've snapped them and they will be cooked and then dressed warm with a shallot vinaigrette for our supper tonight.
I'm also making pizza, inspired, I suppose, by Mr. Pudding's recent recounting of his pizza supper.
Mary Wharton and her film made the front page of the Tallahassee Democrat today along with her talented daddy. I just can't wait to watch the movie. You can go to this link to stream it if you want.
We will definitely be doing that.
I am feeling a great deal of longing these last few days, especially for Vero Beach and the Atlantic Ocean and staying in a beachside motel. I miss the hiss of the waves hitting the shore, the sense of endlessness and vastness as I look out over the Atlantic while watching the sunrise in the morning. All of this is probably ridiculous because I seriously doubt that there are any beachside motels left. It's probably all condos now. For some reason though, my memories of the times I've stayed there are fierce and sharp now. I want to smell the salt and walk the same beaches I walked as a child where my granny would walk with me and my grandfather would always say, "Mother, you're going to get your dress wet," and she'd say, "No I won't," and she always did, the sudden, sly waves coming up to drench her hem. Because she had lost her hearing at an early age, her balance was off and her tiny feet would leave tipsy footprints in the wet sand. I want to find shells and look for shark's teeth and the gold doubloons of pirates' treasure. I want to see the sea grapes and listen to the gossipy whisper of the Australian pines. I want to immerse my body in the holy, warm, amniotic waters of the Atlantic Ocean.
Is it because I've not been anywhere for so long? Is it because it's fall? Is it because I am growing older?
I don't know.
But it's a real yearning.
Aw well. I am grateful to have memories. I pray that time does not rob me of those. And in the meantime, I will content myself with this place in this time, and try to remember to be grateful.
Here's a picture of Mary Wharton and sweet Jimmy Carter.