Writer. Feminist. Historian. Person.
Autumn in Florida is … well hotter than heck! Feeling a bit nostalgic for brisk fall days, boots, and cute jackets reminded me of this day in the not-so-distant past. Sitting on our patio, wearing a sweatshirt, drinking a glass of wine–aaaah the sweetness of the cool air! So thanks Comedy Plus Wordless Wednesday for giving me a reason to find this picture. (Photo by me on my old I-phone.)
swirling black and blue
the sky’s open prophecy
shames the hiding sun
It’s Heeding Haiku time! Click for details.
Today’s prompt from FOWC inspired me (one could say it prompted me) to say a few words about the road trip that begins when my husband and I rise Thursday morning at the beautifully dark hour of 4:30AM and hit the road by 5:30.
“Where ya headed?”
Glad you asked. We are going north to escape the endless summer that has wrapped Florida in its deadly grip. We seek the Fall! Memories of cute boots and scarves and blue jeans and sweaters beckon.
“Come to me!!” They call.
“Wear me.” They tease.
“Wrap me.” They whisper.
I am tingling with excitement.
Oh and I get to see friends and family too. So it’s a win-win.
Of course this road trip includes a giant triangle of driving—South Florida to middle Illinois to Washington DC to south Florida—so it’s possible I’ll change my mind about the win-win. But for now I’ve got the pod casts downloaded and the play lists set.
Here we come autumn!
Updates to follow 🎃 but here’s a haiku to keep you warm till then. It’s not great but … BOOTS!!
As the moon falls low
We rise for a journey long
Seeking boots of fall
Thanks RonovanWrites
I wrote this short essay almost exactly one year ago today. I had only recently moved to Florida and hurricanes were a new thing to me. I put my thoughts to paper just as Irma was making landfall in south Florida putting us directly in the middle of the cone of uncertainty. I was (to put in mildly) freaked out. Its lighthearted tone helped me deal with my fear. In the end, we came out OK but not everyone did.
Today my thoughts are with those whose lives were lost or irreparably changed because of Irma (and Maria and …) as well as those people on the east coast facing the scary specter of Florence as it races towards them.
Irma is my first. And according to every source in internet land, she’s the biggest, baddest, bitchiest hurricane ever. But so far she’s just a lot of talk. And waiting. So much waiting. I recently relocated to St. Petersburg from the Midwest, so I’m from the land of tornados. Tornados come and go with almost no warning so the talking comes after. With hurricanes, it’s the opposite. We have been talking about Irma for days and days and days. Don’t misunderstand—I’m not complaining about having the time to prepare, but there’s a limit to the windows you can board and the water you can store and the flashlights you can test. Then … all that’s left is the waiting and the talking and the waiting and the talking.
We talk about past storms, future predictions, the cone of uncertainty, surge levels, present-day availability of water (and gas and plywood), our zones, the traffic on 75 (or 4 or 19), who left (and who stayed), and (most importantly) what snacks we stockpiled. And as we wait, we drink a bit too much, eat way too much, and try to find ways to amuse. We create imaginative virtual and in-real-life gatherings meant to defy Irma’s power. Some ideas are simply funny—simultaneously blowing fans towards Irma to change her direction (at least I hope that was meant to be funny) or coming together to protest and resist (#notmyhurricane). Others are a bit scarier. I just read an actual news story that really seems like a quintessentially Florida idea. Shoot guns into the storm to … I’m not sure? Scare it away? Anyway this idea has become so popular that officials are warning people NOT to do it. Explaining that it won’t turn Irma around and it’s potentially dangerous.
Florida–it’s gonna Florida! 😉
We also spend a lot of time texting, phoning, messaging, tweeting, and posting on Facebook. Yes we are OK. We’re in a non-evacuation zone or we’ve evacuated to Tampa (or Atlanta or Pensacola…). Yes. We’ve got water and food and flashlights. No. We won’t be wandering around town anymore. We say it’s to reassure friends and family, but I think it helps us a bit too. Because when all the talking is done, we’re just left with the waiting. And waiting is the worst.
Until she arrives. And that’ll be a different story.
Tina Stewart Brakebill 