Rainy day in Paradise

Today was one of those rare overcast and rainy days here in my little island paradise. Not the squally kind of rainy day that comes in fits and bursts, either, but the kind where the stagnant steel gray sky just dripped from dawn to dark. I putzed around the house waiting for inspiration that never really materialized, picking at the guitar, flipping pages in a novel. I did manage to take a nap, a rarity for me. About dusk I went to Publix for some grub, and stopped and took a few shots on the way. This one is looking east from the Port Largo canal, and I think it captures the mood of the day with the sluggish swells on the water and the looming clouds. After I took the picture I watched the folks in the dinghy continue heading out, disappearing out of sight heading north. Where in the heck could they be going?

 

This one is the laundromat downtown.


I miss going there now that I'm in a crib with a washer & dryer - there were almost always interesting characters to shoot the breeze with while the clothes went round and round. Lots of cruisers come in to wash their grimys before heading back out, and their stories always fueled my desire to pack up and head out. The fact that I usually did laundry and heard of their adventures on Sunday evenings, as the freedom of the weekend was dissipating for me, made their tales about open ocean crossings and peaceful moonlit anchorages all the more seductive.

But......as romantic as the sailing life sounds it's just not time yet. Heck, I had the whole day to myself and didn't get out to Reprieve at all because I thought the weather was too soggy. There will come a day, mind you, but for right now I'm content to continue my current gig while The Plan simmers on the back burner.

Lemme know what you think of the photos.

Speaking of that kind of thing, but changing gears entirely, I read today that the Rainbow Family may be organizing itself in response to pressure (or harrassment, depending on who you talk to) from the Forest Service over permits. It turns out that Forest Service regulations require groups of more than 74 persons camping together get a permit. Now, that seems like an awfully arbitrary number to set as the threshold for when a group needs to formally register their presence and state their intentions to the keepers of our Public Lands. Heck, it's a mighty arbitrary number to pick as the dividing line between a tropical storm and a hurricane now that I think of it. Coincidence?

Anyway. I'm sitting here in the Crazy cave all day pondering over when, where, and how I'll make my break from my tradition and strike out in a new direction. Sail off on Reprieve and bar 'n beach hop through the islands or get into a bit bigger boat and head for the far horizon? Waiting until after hurricane season is a big part of my thought process, when the magic number 74 is less of a factor for an old fart in anykind of boat bobbing around on the Atlantic Ocean. Turns out Zeus and Barry Adams have been studying on the same thing, only for them 74 could be a catalyst for transforming the Rainbow Family from a leaderless gaggle of hippies into a federally recognized spiritual group - a religion. Coincidence?

I just hope that for me and the Rainbow Family the journey is exhilarating through the storms and calm and cool in the peaceful, moonlit anchorages or quiet forest campsites.

Peace out, brothers and sisters.