I've got it tough down here in Florida, and I expect some sympathy as you listen to my tale of woe. First of all, I had to get the orange crop in. This duty falls to the male with the least seniority in the family – makes me regret not having kids.
First thing this morning, off I go with the ladder and the picker, filling the wheelbarrow with oranges. Backbreaking work, I tell you. After I get back from the beach in a few days I'm gonna have to squeeze all of them and freeze the juice for my parents' yearly supply of OJ.
While I was picking the oranges I had to be careful not to damage all the January-blooming flowers – the poinsettias and camellias. It's just one thing after the other down here. Can't hardly turn around without running into some growing or blooming thing.
Oh yeah, the beach. As I told you in my last entry, I snagged three nights at Gamble Rogers State Recreational Area down near Flagler Beach. MORE work – pack the dishes, hit the grocery store for supplies, drive down that long stretch of monotonous A1A with nothing but the ocean to look at. Poor me. I did spot three wood storks on the way, which helped relieve the tedium.
Check in, find our spot, plug in, and set up the dishes… it never ends. Now I gotta cook dinner and watch the waves roll in as the sun sets over the Intracoastal Waterway on the inland side of the barrier island we're on. I tell you, life is rough down here in Florida.
If you don't believe me, ask Fiona the Fearless Kitty. She longs for the days less than three weeks ago when she was tromping through the snow, looking for a bare spot of frozen ground to try to dig a hole in. See that look of anguish on her face? She does like how the ocean picks up the blue of her eyes, though, so that's some consolation.