Elaine Smith Writes

Anything She Wants

A breeze and some sunshine

And humidity under 80%.

I had such a nice day yesterday.  Didn’t get much done, but that was part of what made it nice.

First of all, I overslept—which could, of course, be a disaster if there’s somewhere you have to be, but I did not have to be anywhere.  For me, it was a surprising blessing.

We moved here because of noise.  One of the things I particularly hated about the noise was I never got to wake up on my own time.  I had quit my job, and I thought I was entitled to revert to my natural rhythms.  Left to myself, I want to stay up until about 1 or 1:30 and get up around 8 or 8:30.  I had the staying up part down, but big crashes and stomps above my head were never going to let me sleep in.

So, we moved.  At which point, I found myself going to bed at around 9 or 10, exhausted from all the new things required of me by the new house—by owning a house at all.  And I was waking up by 6, if not at 3 or 4.

In an odd, inverted way, it reminded me of this little stanza by Edna St. Vincent Millay:

Grown-up

Was it for this I uttered prayers,
And sobbed and cursed and kicked the stairs,
That now, domestic as a plate,
I should retire at half-past eight?

All of that is kind of beside the point, however, which is that I overslept today for the first time in years.

That put me a little bit behind, but I got my workout in.  I used my new nut catcher to round up some sweet gum balls, and I used some Round-up to—I hope—discourage the sweet gum seedling that is trying to grow up in the middle of my labyrinth.

And then, I did nothing.

I just decided to put aside the multiplicity of imperatives that are usually buzzing around my head and only do things I enjoy and that I wanted to do.

I read a book.

Then, I realized that the weather was gorgeous, and I took my book out on the dock.  The sun was shining.  The breeze was blowing.  The humidity had dropped to around 70%—which is low for here.

I realized that almost all of the days I like to revisit in my memory have been days like this.  A Girl Scout camping trip to Cape Henlopen.  An afternoon in a hillside cemetery in Nevada.  A Connecticut meadow.  A cookout in Indian River involving a 50’s style motel, a swimming pool, and The Music Man on TV.

Nothing much happening.

Just sunshine and a balmy breeze.

The days when you have all the time in the world, and you hope time never comes to an end.

Time Travel

Kingsley Lake – Part 1

If you read yesterday’s post, you might think that today’s headline has to do with the ongoing investigation into why the emails don’t always get delivered to subscribers.

You’re wrong!

Today, I’m talking about a different sort of time travel.  Because, today, I am traveling backwards through time to visit a lake I used to go to as a child.

This is a dangerous thing to do.  Often, such a journey is destined to disappoint.  Things are rarely as good–or as bad–as you remember them.  They are, certainly, never as big!  I remember how astonished I was at the smallness of the  New Orleans school I had attended for kindergarten when I saw it again in my twenties.

Kingsley Lake, however, is unlikely to disappoint.  For one thing, it can’t be much smaller.  Wikipedia lists it as 2,000 acres.  That’s pretty big by any standards.  The lake’s own website says it is 2 miles in diameter and a very stable lake, so it will not have shrunk as I have grown.

Then, too, I don’t know that I remember it all too clearly.  We used to go to Goldhead Lake, as well, so it is entirely possible that I have the two lakes mixed in my mind.  I’m fully prepared not to recognize anything.

I am interested to see it, though.

It’s almost perfectly round which seems unusual to me in a naturally occurring body of water.  Apparently, pilots call it Silver Dollar Lake because of the roundness.  Nobody knows, but it may have been formed by an ancient sinkhole.

What does surprise me is the discovery that there is no longer any public access to the lake.  I’m absolutely sure I remember being able to drive right to it.  Apparently, however, when the surrounding land was sold for housing, nobody realized or thought it important enough to do anything about the fact that the public access disappeared.

The only way you can get to Kingsley Lake now is a) know one of the homeowners or b) be a member of the military (Camp Blanding, the primary base for the Florida National Guard sits on the east and south sides of the lake).

Fortunately, I got connections!

My cousin-in-law is a retired Master Chief.  He and his wife go RV camping there, and he is going to put us on the list so that the guards will let us onto the base.

I’ll let you know how it goes and what the lake is like now.

In the meantime, I suppose the take-away from this post in terms of career is connections are important–and you never know who can get you where you want to go.

 

Touchdown!

Today’s Monday Miracle is that I am back home in Florida.

(At least, I hope so.  This post was written ahead of time–so I wouldn’t forget.  But unless you’ve heard of something unmentionable involving airplanes yesterday, it’s a pretty safe bet.)

And thank goodness.

Because I have a hard time believing in air travel.

And it is disconcerting to participate in something that seems so unlikely.

I mean, have you ever seen an airplane?!

Usually, I don’t really look at the airplanes I’m boarding.  I walk down an enclosed jetway through a portal and sit down in a seat inside a tube (sort of).  But when you travel to and from Maine, you get to be bussed across the tarmac, hand your rollaboard over to a guy with a cart (because even the carry-on won’t fit on the plane), and climb a set of stairs with the airplane attached.

Large as life and twice as natural.

Now, a plane to Maine is small.  But it’s bigger than anything I know how to get up into the air.

So it seems unlikely that air travel is actually possible.

But it must be.  Because here I am.  Back home in Florida, when yesterday I was in Maine.

Whew!

Oops!

Sorry Sunday

Traveling today!

Not enough thinking ahead!

No substantive blog post.  Ooops.

Use this time to write something of your own!

Summer Days

Friday Finds

Here’s a little known secret!

(Actually, it is probably well known to everybody, but I now have first hand knowledge.)

Maine might be a great place to spend the summer.

Now, I admit my acquaintance with the great state of Maine is only 5 days old, but I left 90 degree weather and 90% humidity back in Florida, and it might get up to 87 today here in Maine.  I’m not sure they know what humidity is.

It’s absolutely beautiful, and it’s June.  (It is, in fact, the kind of day June brides dream about.)

I’m thinking I may have to come back here some time without the all-absorbing obligations of play festivals.

It could be good.