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Reflections

Page history last edited by kms 12 years, 9 months ago

14 Sep 2010

 

This random writing was inspired by Adam's By the Bay and Elizabeth's Downtown Residents' Civic Association.  It incorporates the ideas from a few lines of a spring 2008 journal and a few thoughts from the first 'free write' piece composed in a LIT 6934 Nature Writing course taken during Summer A 2010.

 

     The smell of the green grass and the sight of the palms remind me of growing up in St. Petersburg.  These are the scents and sights of my grandfather’s yard.  I reminisce.

 

     Our own yard never had much grass.  Our neighbors informed us that, during development, the first residents to move in had pilfered the sod from the unsold vacant houses.  When their grass died, apparently some residents felt it their right to take ‘our’ lawn.  They weren’t stealing from future home owners – future neighbors – they were taking the lawn they felt was due them from the developer.  Such is life.  This is how we ended up with a sandy yard.  A yard that, no matter how many times we purchased, put down, and watered new sod, ended up with as much sand as grass.

 

     I wish that little neighborhood, the one my mother lives in today, had not deteriorated.  Then we would be motivated to re-marcite the pool, spend money on landscape design, install new kitchen cabinets and floors and create a quaint little ‘eight miles from the beach’ cottage.  However, the neighborhood has fallen ill, mostly due to implications from the ‘real estate bubble’.  These tiny homes (mostly 720 – 1000 sf) were bought up by investors.  A few were ‘flipped’, but most were turned into rentals.  It’s sad to have to say, but not all renters take care of the homes that they live in.

 

     But, oh how I love the spring here!  When in Florida, it’s my favorite season of the year.  The sun shines, but not too warmly.  It’s the prefect weather to sit outside and relax.  I find a vacant bench facing the marina.  The warmth of the sun soothes my tired muscles after a run, while a soft breeze tickles my skin. I enjoying reading the names of the boats and imagining how the name originated.  The university that I attend owns a sailboat called the ‘Wanderer’.  The first time I saw that boat, I wondered:  How did it arrive there?  Where had it been?  Had it really wandered anywhere?

 

     Had it been a boat that someone took out on weekend mornings while they dreamed?  Did they relax, and release their work week tensions, as they pushed away from a dock over softly rippling waters and imagine another life at sea?  A life with endless days, rather than only Saturdays, smelling salt air, feeling the heat of the Florida sun penetrating their skin, watching dolphins play instead of stock prices rise and fall.  Did they envision crashing waves, instead of crashing markets, and rescue from daring men instead of by federal funds?  What life did they leave behind as they wandered out to sea?  And what opportunity, or loss, prompted them to give away their cherished ship?

 

     The next time I come to this downtown park, I tell myself, I will remember to bring my camera.  I’ll take some photos of the banyan trees and some of the sailboats lolling in the marina.  Right now I’m content to not have to think while I soak up the sun before the summer temperatures become too hot to handle.

 

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