Autumn

Two days without a post--I'm falling down on the job.

Then again, it's been a busy couple days. I spent all day Friday mediating a messy case involving a mortgage, via Zoom, while Peg created a Goodwill pile for the ages. I told her she didn't have to get rid of all those extremely high-heeled shoes because they made her taller than me, but to no avail. Some Goodwill shopper with very small feet is about to make the shopping find of her life.

Saturday we drove to Tallahassee to pick up the plane and fly it back to Perry, a twenty-three minute bit if scud running over rows of planted pines and primeval swamps. Engine failure out there would be very bad. A couple minutes after I landed here, another Cardinal landed behind me, a fixed-gear model with a beautiful glass cockpit. Two young guys and a well-behaved boxer mix hopped out. I admired their instruments; they said they envied me the speed of the RG.

"Where'd you come from and where are you headed?" I asked.

"Norman, Oklahoma. Flying to Venice. Slow going with thirty knots of headwind the whole way on account of the tropical storm."

"What tropical storm?"

I really should pay more attention to the news. Or not.

After a quick swing through Wyldswood, where we were confronted by hissing geese who were upset that they'd missed brunch, it was time for a little swamp golf over at the Perry Golf & Country Club. The place was largely underwater after the rains of the last couple weeks, so it was par three only. And we were the only people out there. As in, just us and the bartender/cashier.

It is truly a grand thing to play golf when you're the only one on the course, particularly when you are playing badly. Every ball stopped instantly as soon as it hit the soggy fairway, or disappeared altogether into "water hazards" that were really just huge mud puddles that pockmarked the course. And because the water had been there a while, we entered the food chain every time we stopped so I could hack at a golf ball buried in the fecund muck, and found every bit of exposed skin covered with mosquitoes.

It was a bad day to have chosen white shorts.

But the best part of it all was the cool temperatures, with thick overcast and a light mist every now and then. The breeze was steady, and almost gave us a chill. It could've been Scotland, but for the cypress knees and mosquitoes. Maybe Scotland has mosquitoes as well. I'll have to look that up.

This morning we awoke to 66 degrees and slate grey skies. We haven't seen the likes of this since May. Our initial concern was that the ducks and geese had disappeared, which has become their habit lately as they go on long morning walks together out in the old hay field. Of course, the downside of their peregrination is that they miss our morning ritual of having me throw them a few handfuls of chicken feed, and when they return from their sojourn they end up trying to lead me back to the feed can for a belated snack.

Then, when they realize I'm not following them, they follow P and me, braying over the self-imposed famine they are forced the endure.

Eventually the guineas became curious about all the fuss, and joined the parade. We were going to gather up some eggs, but when we got to the spot in the horse barn where the chickens and guineas have been laying every day, we found Beta the hen (not named for the tropical storm) hunkered down in that spot, trying to squeeze out another one. We'll come back later.

Peg is continually frustrated by the guineas' refusal to fly and roost in our trees, safe from predators. They are not supposed to be pets, and by reputation are the wildest of the fowl. But not these. They follow us around screeching, and when we go in the house or the office they sit under the porch taking dirt baths and hoping we'll re-emerge. And despite their innate flying skills, they stand helpless at every fence line, screeching and squawking in frustration at their perceived inability to get to the other side, having apparently forgotten who they are and what they are capable of doing for themselves.. Maybe a life lesson in there.

Today they at least took a run at flying a little, perching on the gate and fence posts.

Time to shake off the lethargy induced by a gourmet brunch of guinea eggs florentine and a champagne cocktail Peg loves. There is always more to do here than we have hours in the day, and every weekend we step away from our paying gigs to fix and organize and build and clean. It's all hard work, but it's also a tonic for the soul. I can't think of a better way to spend a sabbath.