Riches And More Riches

For many years when Glen and I came down here to Roseland, he just could not catch a fish. He was so frustrated. I kept telling him that he needed to use shrimp as bait and I knew this only because that's what we'd use as children. Granddaddy would go to Johnny May's fish house and get shrimp and we'd put them on hooks on the lines of our bamboo poles and we'd always catch something, mainly catfish and that's neither here nor there but for whatever reason Glen just kept trying artificial bait and lures. 
And then one trip he started using shrimp. 
And here we are. 
He is figuring this out. The other night he caught a sheepshead and a mangrove snapper, both good eating fish. The same night he caught this.

And yes, that's a screen shot taken from a video. Can you tell what it is? 
It's a sting ray and I remember with absolute clarity the time either my brother or I caught one of those off of Granddaddy's dock and Granddaddy, who was wearing his rubber boots, stepped on the wildly flipping tail which is the stinging part of those rays, got the hook out of his mouth, and sent him on his way off the dock and back into the river. 
It was highly exciting. 
I don't think I was quite as excited the other night when Glen caught that one but I was pretty dang worried he was going to get stung because he was wearing some sandals, not thick rubber boots but he figured it out and unhooked the creature and like Grandaddy, sent him back to have a good life. 
And it was a little exciting. 

Yesterday, Glen went to the headwaters to fish, which is something he did last time we were here. Don't ask me what the headwaters are but they're nearby and you can catch a lot of bass in them. The bass seem to prefer artificial bait over shiners which are little fishes that must be kept alive and this requires a thing called a bubbler that goes into its special bucket to keep the water oxygenated. The shrimp get the bubbler too. 
So Mr. Moon had a great time yesterday, out on the headwaters and he fished from dawn 'til coming on dark. I had a day to myself and I enjoyed it thoroughly. I walked up to the Goodwill and spent at least two hours going through shirts and I didn't get through a third of the ones they had. This Goodwill is not quite like any other Goodwill I've ever seen in that shirts are arranged on the racks by whether they are sleeveless, short-sleeved, or long-sleeved. Sizes are mixed in willy-nilly. Some Goodwills sort by color. Not this one. BUT their clothes seem to be cleaner and they are all seemingly unstained and I saw very, very few T-shirts with pictures or messages on them. And they have a lot of very good brands. 
I got Lily a nice shirt, I got myself a nice shirt. Both are gauzy and rather hippified. I also found (be still my heart) a 100% cashmere sweater without a hole in it. Not one. This is rare.
When I find a garment like that which is next-to-new and special, I always wonder if the owner died. I also got a hat.

Perfect.

After shopping I took myself to lunch and got the loveliest bowl of tomato basil soup you can imagine. And then I walked back to the little cabana house, traveling down a few white-sand side roads just because I could. I took a picture of some cactus flowers.

Close-up.

How exotic is that? There are lots of cacti in Roseland. At one point my friend Helen Ferger and I spent about four days, determined to rid Roseland of all its cactus after we'd both been the victims of their needles once too many times. 

Obviously, our mission was not accomplished. 

I still have a strong aversion to thorned succulents, both the kind whose needles are tiny and require someone with a lot of patience, a magnifying glass, a good light, and a willingness to pull the little hairlike things one at a time for hours on end, and the ones with big honking needles that make you weak in the knees just to see one sticking out of your own personal body part.

I dug up a few succulents of the non-needled varieties to take home and put in a pot. I did not steal them. I dug them with my very own fingers from the sandy soil in a vacant jungly yard right by the road. 

I loved that walk. I love seeing houses I recognize from sixty years ago. I love remembering names from the way-too-distant past. 
Who was the woman who lived there who made beautiful things out of seashells?
Rosa. Rosa Garrett. 
Is that Nelly Campbell's old house? If it is, has the log part of it been covered with stucco? How sad. Where was the old post office? On this little road? Has the building been converted into a house? 
How can I remember things like this when I can't remember the names of all the characters on Sex in the City?

I don't know but it does not bode well for my memory retention, does it? 

Today Mr. Moon and I went out for late breakfast at the place we always eat our breakfast where the service is fast and the food is good and it's not very expensive. We sit outside under oak trees and grackles come and perch on the backs of chairs beside us and give us the eye, no need for human language. We've been lucky with the weather. Hot in the day but cool and breezy enough in the mornings and at sunset. The clientele is generally made up of the elderly and I think that if we lived here, we would feel like some of the youngsters. 
We would be fooling ourselves but so what? Glen can fish all day, I can walk for an hour. 

After breakfast we drove to Melbourne, a small town about twenty miles north of here. It, too, spans from the Atlantic shore, across the Indian River, and then a little beyond. We took the coastal route to get there, Highway A1A, and again, we saw some of the best examples of the poor taste of many of the wealthy. And I do believe that this house sums up the old saying that money cannot buy taste.

Or common sense. That...house?... is so huge that when we passed it, I screamed, "OH MY GOD!" I scared my husband. I made him turn around so he could see it and I could take a picture. As Hank said in response to the picture when I sent it to the group, "Yes...let's live in a gorgeous location in a wavy dungeon without windows."
So welcoming. So cozy.

And this is the sort of ocean view they get. 

I took that when we were driving over the bridge that spans the inlet. 

We did go to a thrift store in Melbourne in the historic downtown district. 

Now how could I pass that up? A THRIFT bendy man? A combination of two of my favorite things. 
I have to say there was a very interesting and eclectic collection of things in that place. 

I bought two martini glasses and a ridiculous piece of "art."

Trust me- this will go quite well some place in my house. 

I also bought something entirely out of character for me. A very large book of the Beatles' Greatest Hits with arrangements for piano. I picked it up, I leafed through it very briefly. I put it back down. 
I picked it back up. 
I put it down.
And when I went to check out with my lovely senoritas and martini glasses, I returned to it and picked it up and I bought it. 
It wanted me to take it and I think I may, I might, perhaps, play some of the songs on the piano. They are simple arrangements and why not?

Tonight's sunset was quite different. We've had almost cloudless days which doesn't make for extremely interesting sunsets but this evening, the clouds began to gather. A formation of them, wet and dark with rain formed and I have never seen anything like it. 

We saw a dolphin roll right by the dock and Glen caught a snook, a black drum, multiple sheepshead, and mangrove snapper. All of the caught fish got sent home to their mama's. 

It has been raining for awhile and I am as happy for Glenn and for Roseland as I am for my own small community and yard when we get rain when it's been dry. 

A fisherman going up the river as the sun set. 
"What's for supper?" he yelled.
"Mangrove snapper!" Glen yelled back. 

But no. We had leftovers and that was fine. 

Today's hibiscus.

Simple and to the point. 

Tomorrow is our last full day. 

Sigh. 

Love...Ms. Moon