Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Pursuing Paradise

What is it about Florida that attracts so many - non-conformist? Or individuals living outside the norm. Normal - what does that mean? Who is to say what is normal and what is bizarre? Why Do gazillions flock to this paradise surrounded by the forces of mother nature? Her waves crash upon the shores leaving messages in the sand. And there are those that see and hear those messages and follow them with wild abandon.

And I - am here standing in the midst of all this glorious splendor and quirkiness. Apparently I fit in well although I am not traveling the streets with a British flag tied to my neck flapping in the breeze. What I do have flapping in the breeze is a sail from a long ago sailboat tied to the palms trees in my side yard. It's blue and white with the numbers 986 stamped in black print on both sides. I assume the numbers have a meaning or perhaps a message.

I placed the giant sail in the side yard to cover the turtle ponds to keep the harsh sun off the turtles. I certainly hope they appreciate my concerns for them. Speaking of turtles my yard has become a turtle haven. Is that bordering on norm? Anyways the sail makes a lovely calming sound when the wind blows and I can pretend I'm in the middle of the ocean sailing into the sunset. It's like a having an anti anxiety pill at your beck and call 24/7. It transport the mind and soul to a relaxed world. And it cost nothing and is not addicting. Or is it?

Then I have the painted pink rocking chair on my front veranda filled with old leather shoes and flowers. It's my form of recycling. In the side yard sits an old rusted red wheel borrow filled with dirt and once filled with flowers but the flowers died and the dirt sprouts pretty weeds so there she sits. The front wheel has deflated and sags precariously to the East. Until last week a huge faux clay pot sat right next to the red rusted wheel borrow minus the flowers. It housed the hose. After a few years the heat from the Florida sun melted the faux clay plot that housed the hose and she ended up in some landfill far away from here. Recycling can only go so far.

So what is it about this paradise that attracts those following the beat of a different drum. Speaking of drums I attended my first drum circle - awesome. The drums and the flapping of my sail makes a wondrous melody of music for the soul. I wonder if that is in the book 'Chicken Soup For The Soul'?


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