After a Long Summer

I know I've not been blogging for a long time, and here is the reason: I have spent the last five months completely rewriting a book I've written - with the working title of Goat Water Is Not What You Think: The Montserrat life of two Hoosiers and the volcano that ended it.

The book will be out in the first half of 1914! I finished the fifth run-through of the manuscript Saturday and sent it off to the publisher. Next, I will help select what photos will be included, help with the cover design, go through the manuscript for errors, and help plan how the book will be marketed. I'll have a lot of work to do between now and publication day.

As you can imagine, this is a very exciting time for me.

Back in the early 1960s, I wrote a novel, which was turned down by about 25 publishers before I shelved it. I haven't looked at it since, but I can imagine it is really terrible -although I received several hopeful rejection letters. Later in the 1960s, I wrote a short book about our experiences in the U.S. Army; it too failed to find a publisher.

But I am not one to quit; I thought our lives on the island of Montserrat - including the build-up to the volcano - were so interesting I wanted to share what happened to us. From time to time between now and the Spring, I'll share some snippets of the Montserrat years with you.

I hope you are all well and happy!

Carol

No Palm Trees

In Indiana, we got no palm trees. We got no alligators. We got no "no see'ums." We got no osprey. We got no hibiscus. Well, then, what do we got?

Mustard or Catsup?

We got the "wienermobile." The famous vehicle travels around the country advertising the Oscar Mayer wiener, which is part of a line of meats that originated in Chicago more than 100 years ago. The yellow and orange wienermobile was in Indianapolis for festivities before and during the 500-mile race, which was last Sunday. In fact, the wienermobile's driver was staying in the same extended-stay motel we are.

What else do we got? We got this bunny, which has been living in the daylily patch just outside a nearby door. As it rained all day today - a bummer - the cotton tail hid herself away to stay dry. But at dinner time, she came out of hiding for a photo op.

Visiting friends in the area where Ed and I were born and grew up makes up for all the rain we've been having. Sienna, our rescue dog, is having a wonderful time, too. She especially loves the green grass and the chance to watch Canada Geese flying over and honking at each other.

Indiana is different from our home in Florida, that's for sure. But we have fun either place.

  

From There to Here

I haven't posted here for quite a while because we've been on the road. Let me explain: Every May we pack up our car with necessities, to include the dog crate, a stapler, scissors, file folders, laptop computers and, oh yes, some clothes, and drive 1,200 miles from our home in Florida to our temporary home in Indiana. That's where we were born, and that's where many of our friends still live.

We spend two months in Indiana, mostly visiting some of those friends. On many days, we meet somebody for lunch and somebody else for dinner. In addition, my husband plays clarinet in an "Old Geezers" band and takes private clarinet lessons. He's trying to unlearn some of the bad habits he learned back when he was in college!

As for me, I am editing a memoir I've written about our four-year experience living on a Caribbean island. The last year we spent the winter there, we watched as a volcano worked up to an eruption, or, I should say, a series of eruptions, which continue even today. In 1997, our house was incinerated by a pyroclastic flow of hot rocks and gases, and that was the end of that.

In Indianapolis, we stay in a little suite in an extended-stay motel. This is our fourth year here, and members of the staff call us by name when we walk in the door. The staff, including the women who clean and replenish the towels, the desk clerks and the maintenance engineers, have almost all stayed the same, attesting to the caliber of management.

Just like home 

The bromeliad in this picture - so reminiscent of our home in Florida - was given to us by the staff as a welcome gift.   

Taste of Florida

Anybody who has lived in Florida for a while becomes an expert on which restaurant serves the best key lime pie - unless other fruit pies or chocolate are preferred. Some fillings are too tart, or not tart enough, and some crusts lack mama's touch.

In weaker moments, we have been known to order a lunch-size salad for dinner to allow room for a key lime pie dessert.

The fruit of which I speak is only 1-2 inches in diameter, so it takes a fair number to make a pie, if you're doing this at home. When key limes are ripe, they are yellow, but the ones you buy in a bag at the grocery are green.

Although it is associated with the Florida Keys, a key lime tree can be grown quite well in southwest Florida. In fact, we had a tree until citrus canker broke out, and the Florida government, supposedly to protect citrus farmers, unilaterally cut down all citrus trees within 1,500 feet of one with the disease. As a result, while we were on vacation up north, nearly all the citrus trees on our street were cut down, including ours. When we returned, we couldn't even see where our trees had been.

Later, it was determined that canker was spread on the wind - especially when Hurricane Charley roared through in 2004.

Add whipped topping on top if you wish

But never mind all that. You can make something that approximates the taste of a restaurant or bakery key lime pie without needing to squeeze those tiny fruits. Here's a recipe:

Key Lime Pie

1 can (6 ounce) frozen lime juice concentrate, thawed

1 can sweetened condensed milk

1 container whipped topping (9 ounce)

3/4 cup sour cream

graham cracker crust of your choosing

Mix all ingredients until blended. Pour into crust and refrigerate at least six hours.

Around the Yard

Our "tree man" is coming tomorrow to prune our neighbors' mahogany trees and our carambola (starfruit), so I took a walk around our yard to see what else needs to be attended to.

While I was making notes, I also looked for the oddities which make Florida such a fun place to live. Here are two I found:

Epiphyte

This epiphyte or air plant has attached itself to our carambola tree. It is one of many varieties that can be found in warm and humid places; in the United States, that means the South. An air plant is not a parasite because it doesn't feed off the tree or bush host, but just finds a convenient place to live and grow and settles in. I've even seen epiphytes clutching telephone wires high above the ground. They are cousins to orchids and bromeliads.

Soaking up the sun on the trunk of a Christmas palm in our front yard was this nymph of an eastern lubber grasshopper. It is quite spectacular looking with its bright yellow stripes, and in addition to its menacing look, it hisses to discourage predators. The adult grasshopper can be orange or red or yellow or even black and can be as big as three inches long. The eastern lubber, too, is common in the South. In its black phase, it is sometimes called "Devil's Horse" or "Diablo." 

Eastern Lubber Grasshopper

We're going to ask the tree man to trim the bougainvillea, which is threatening to brush against the screened porch, and the white bird of paradise, which is touching the eaves in a front corner of the house. We have managed to control the size of everything else over the winter when there was little rain.

The rainy season in southwest Florida starts June 1, and that means showers, often with lightning and thunder, can be expected nearly every afternoon. In winter, our grass needs cutting only about once a month because of the lack of rain. We don't have a sprinkler system, and neither do most of the neighbors where we live. In summer, our grass may need cutting every five days.

If you leave town for even a week or two in the summer, you will be amazed at the growth of everything while you were away.

The End of "Season"

Easter and Passover are over, so, in Florida, it's time for snowbirds to head north to pay their taxes and to check in on the grandchildren. They are leaving our area in droves, making Interstate 75 a jammed-up mess of gargantuan motorhomes, sedans and vans with clothing on racks and the usual semi-tractor trailers.

Many of the motorhomes that are driven down from Michigan and Oho - or purchased in Florida - cost way over $100,000 when new, and drivers, when heading north, often have a car hitched to the back or an additional trailer, which was used for belongings that wouldn't fit into the motorhome. These may be the same people who rent storage units up north for their extra "stuff." Of course, a lot of snowbirds rent or own houses or condos in Florida. Motels and hotels do a brisk business, too.

Gone

Gone

Gone

This mass exodus has caused an interesting problem for one of our island's social service agencies. Through the one in which I volunteer, clients can borrow mobility aids at no charge and for as long as they are needed - to include canes, walkers with seats and without, crutches and wheelchairs. We also lend bedside potty chairs and shower seats, which are in high demand.

It may surprise northerners, but a lot of people come down and have their knees, hips and shoulders replaced while they're relaxing in the sun. That's because the doctors in Florida do so many of these "procedures" in any given six-month period they must know what they're doing.

Come April 1, the mobility aids that have been loaned out during the winter come back, and our equipment team is kept busy meeting clients at our storage unit or making pick-ups.

The food pantry, which depends on donations of money and cans during "season," asks people going north to bring left-over non-perishables to fill the shelves.The need is just as great, if not more so, in the summer when prospective donors are gone.

Those of us who live here most of the year love it when the roads are less crowded and restaurants don't have lines snaking out the door. Most of the eateries don't take reservations, making going out for dinner an unpleasant event during "season," especially on Friday nights, when it seems everyone wants to escape the kitchen. That applies, even, to those who hardly ever cook.

Departures are bitter sweet. In our church, for example, half the congregation disappears until about October when they come trickling back. We miss our friends. In addition to the lack of their camaraderie, departure can also mean a shrinking of the Sunday-morning "take," unless some constant fund-raising goes on. The minister's salary and the light and air conditioning bills have to be paid, no matter what.

We in southwest Florida are dependent on tourism. Businesses in the area take a terrible hit in the summer, and many go under because they didn't make enough money during "season" to tide them over. The restaurant we grew to like during "season" may not be there come fall.

In the meantime, we are enjoying the quiet and wishing the afternoon summer rains would come.    

Something New Every Day

Things are not always as they at first seemed. It turns out our rescue dog Sienna is probably not a Lab/Shar Pei mix at all. The man who was doing our annual A/C and furnace check-up this week mentioned that he had just purchased a rescue dog, a Southern Blackmouth Cur, which, he said, looks a lot like Sienna. I first thought this meant the inside of the dog's mouth was black, maybe like a chow-chow's, and that he was using the term "cur" as slang. After he left, my husband looked up "blackmouth cur" on Google.

Sienna, our rescue dog, has new ID 

There were pages and pages of pictures of these animals, and, hey, they all looked like Sienna. Upon checking Wikipedia, I discovered that there is an Alabama Blackmouth Cur, a Florida Blackmouth Cur, an American Blackmouth Cur, you get the idea. The dogs, which are bred principally in the South, are trained to hunt 'coons, 'possums, bears, feral pigs and squirrels. They also can be trained to herd cattle and to do search and rescue work. They are great family dogs, the article points out. And we say "amen" to that.

I do not believe the American Kennel Club certifies this breed, but another registering body, the United Kennel Club, does. It says that to be standard, the Blackmouth Cur's body may be as much as 10 percent white - on toes, tail, nose and chest. Sienna has a white strip on her chest and a little bit of white on her feet. The black, noted in the breed's name, is to be around the muzzle, but not necessarily inside the mouth. Sienna has black circles around her eyes, too.

Southern Blackmouth Cur

Wikipedia also said the active nature of this dog, which lives 12-16 years, makes it susceptible to torn ligaments and pulled muscles. We know all about that! Sienna limped when we first got her, and our vet told us, after an x-ray, that she had torn anterior cruciate ligaments in both hind legs. He prescribed fish oil, baby aspirin, glucosamine and a quiet life for a few months. Or, surgery might be indicated down the line. Our regimen worked, though, and the ACL's are in fine shape now.

These hybrids of the South seem not to be limited to Blackmouth Curs. Our neighbors up the street rescued a dog about the same time we did, and when asked what kind it was, they said it was a "Catahoula." I went looking up that odd name on Google after our introduction to their puppy. There is definitely a Catahoula Leopard Dog, or Catahoula Cur, which is a hunting dog with Louisiana origins. It has an illustrious past and perhaps was brought to this country by the explorer Hernando de Soto. Like the Blackmouth Cur, the Catahoula is being bred in various kennels, also mostly in the South.

You can check out pages of Catahoula photos on Google Images.