Dine And Dash

Other than one small incident, the short trip to Florida for the family Christmas dine and dash went smoothly and was pleasant enough. On the back roads that I take to avoid the worst parts of I-26 and I-95 through the dying small towns of South Carolina with names like Denmark and Sweden, I drove right through a police check point in the middle of nowhere without stopping.

Driving south on a cloudless day directly into the low winter sun with a layer of haze and plenty of glare, I could not see enough detail to see the police stop and check point until I was in it. My mind and eyes were processing something else. I was going too fast to slam on my brakes and just kept on going. They promptly made chase. I stopped. I was snarled at and given a warning after producing my papers instead of the suggested $500 fine. Thank you very much.

I was left feeling completely unnerved.

I arrived safely at my grandparents' house, my mother's childhood home, Bulbarella's wintering grounds, the scene of a majority of my Christmas festivities since my infancy. Much has changed over the last 64 years.

The rotting front deck was rebuilt in Trex this past summer. Good thing, This Omicron Christmas was going to be spent outside. That is not unusual for a Florida Christmas. This year the weather was particularly nice.

My grandmother's much larger former garden has been reduced to an acre and a half. Rampant vines and thick creeping ferns have had their way in deep thickets of azalea. The river view corner was recently cut back to the nub in an attempt at rescuing the azaleas still there.

But it is over. The magical garden of my childhood is no more. It died with my grandmother. She was the true gardener of this plot of land. It is time to let go. The vines and moss will not be kept at bay in the absence of the gardener.

I have some really nice pictures of this Florida garden from March of this year when it was in full bloom and hinting at its former glory. They are currently trapped in the hairball of my former picture editing and storage system that I have yet to deal with. It is supposed to rain all weekend. Maybe I can get in there and post them.

Put the people here.

Twelve people in this picture have known this house and garden since childhood. This might have been their last Christmas in Orange Park. It is time to let go.

Back in a still warm North Carolina I saw snowdrops popping up and a faint orange glow in the distance made me think the witch hazel 'Jelena' was already in bloom. It was and we have not had winter yet.

I was still having trouble with the fact that I drove right through a police check point in the forsaken back roads of dying small town South Carolina. Coming home from work yesterday afternoon I paid attention to how I was seeing. It was not good.

My cataracts are back. Technically that is not possible. Dr. Google says a different process is at work and it happens to 50% of cataract surgery patients. Easy laser fix. Visually the effect is the same if not worse. I have been living in a fog with blurred lines and sensitivity to the sun again. It is my eyes, not the low winter sun. Oh my God. I just drove right through a police check point.

The first available eye appointment is Feb. 15th. I will be having at least two months of another winter of Monet, should winter decide to ever arrive.

That could be on Monday after three more days of hot spring rain turns to a first snow(?) and a current suggested low of 19 degrees on Monday morning. Oh my God. This kind of weather is not good.