We're Home

This morning before we left, Brad the Peacock showed up. Glenn had told us that he might. He mostly stays down at the Lion Pool house where Glenn and Scott live but he strolls up to the little cottage where we were staying to visit the renters. We'd met Brad before when we rented the pool house and I watched for him all week at our house and this morning he came over to say goodbye, I guess. 
Isn't he a beauty? 
I hear he was named after Brad Pitt in Thelma and Louise because he's just that pretty. 
Perfect. 

When I got up this morning, ready to rock and roll and get things together to get on the road, I found Mr. Moon sitting in the living room watching golf and looking better than he's looked in days. He said he felt better than he's felt in days. I guess he just took a long time to register on the old covid meter. Whatever. 
I'd packed up a lot of stuff last night, getting ready to get on the road earlier rather than later but the husband was fairly lackadaisical about the whole thing, wanting to finish watching whatever he was watching. So I heated him up a bagel and made myself a cheese toast and got busy finishing with the final packing and tidying. I always want to leave the place, if not ready for the next visitors, than at least damn tidy and clean-ish. 
And we did. 

When we finally got in the car and drove down the white sand road to leave, I cried. No. It was not the vacation I had envisioned, but it was still lovely and had its share of magic and plenty of sweetness. 

Again, we drove on US 1 for quite a few miles, paralleling the Indian River, going through pretty little towns. We stopped in Titusville for lunch. We got fried chicken take-out here.

We took our chicken and collard greens and Covid germs down to a little park about a block away on the river and although the wind was blowing so hard we had to hold down our foam to-go containers, we had a nice picnic lunch. 

Florida has a lot of Spanish style architecture, much of it built in the 1920's. We passed many of the houses built in that style today and every time I saw one I would say with great seriousness, "That's my house."

Here's one that I would also consider my house although I got the picture off the internet and the house is in Coral Gables. 

I know that California also has many of these bungalows. I have always been inordinately charmed by them. I think my love of them began when we would visit my paternal grandfather and his wife in Palm Beach when I was young. I believe the house they lived in was of this same era and style although the house was much, much larger. They had money. 
Anyway, it turns out that I have a whole lot of houses between Sebastian and Titusville. 

It took us a long time to get home. The weather was fine, very little rain, just gray skies mostly, but we took backroads even though we were both eager to get home. But it was a good drive. An enjoyable drive. The book I read aloud on our return home was a very early Larry McMurtry book, "All Of My Friends Are Going To Be Strangers," and the time passed quickly. It's a dated book- the attitudes about women and a lot of things are no longer quite acceptable but it's also a sort of timeless book about being young, trying to figure out one's purpose and path in life, and what love is, what relationships are, what a sense of place is and what happens when you leave that place. 

Plus, sex and terrific fallible, human characters. McMurtry was just finding his feet with this one but oh, how gracefully he did it and many of the characters in it returned in his later books about Houston including Terms of Endearment.

So for me, it was a joy to share this book with my husband. 

And now. What about the storm? 

Well, it's still a tropical storm and it's hanging out in the gulf where it is slowly moving our way.

When a storm moves slowly over water, it gathers strength from the warm, most air which is what Debby is doing. As it does that, its center becomes more defined, tighter, and strengthened. This is what denotes a hurricane, that is its power source. And that is what's happening now. 

Our favorite meteorologist is saying that no matter what, we are going to get a shit ton of rain. Perhaps 12 inches. This is no laughing matter. And the winds are going to increase as Debby gathers strength and will become a hurricane. We should start getting bands of the rain and winds tonight and then tomorrow we shall see what happens. Hurricane warnings are up, as are tornado warnings and flood warnings. 
This ain't no joke. 

Right now it is quiet and a cooler. It hasn't really begun to rain. 

We have a generator. 

We will be fine most likely. 

The cats are glad we're home but Rachel and Hank took such good care of them that they did not suffer in the least. It is good to be home. I will check in tomorrow if and when I can. 

Love...Ms. Moon