(Or, not.)

During my week of camping at the farm, it became obviously that the following week was going to be…less than ideal for camping. Especially in a tent. (Even a tent as awesome as mine.) I reluctantly cancelled my reservation at Faver-Dykes State Park and began to look for something more weather-friendly in the St Augustine area.

I thought I’d found the perfect place when I saw the “Serenity Cottage” at this place called “The Healing Farm” just outside the city. A self-contained tiny house, with its own little kitchen and screened porch, with lovely green grounds. I could chill, knit, read and do my thing.

I received several (seemingly) clear communications from Lee, the host, including directions and the key code to get into the cottage. He told me to text his wife, Gita, when I arrived and gave me her number. When I got there, I parked outside…the place looked exactly like the pictures. I let myself in with the key code and was a bit taken aback. It was obvious that someone else was staying there! Confused, I shut the door, went back outside and called Gita. She sounded confused and even annoyed. She told me that I was “in the wrong place” and I should meet her around back.

She showed me a different room…attached to the house. That was where I was staying, she said. I was a bit taken aback and showed her my reservation…for the cottage. With confirmation from AirBnB and Lee, her husband. She kind of shrugged and asked me when I made the reservation. She said her husband had just told her about it the night before!

Don’t get me wrong, the room was perfectly fine…it just wasn’t what I had reserved. She said that it was “up to me” whether or not I stayed, but at this point, I doubted I’d find something else suitable. She showed me the kitchen and living room, which seemed promising. But when I asked if I would be allowed to use the kitchen, she looked a little upset and said, “Well, when would you need to cook?” I wasn’t sure how to answer. But I decide to stay and make the best of it.

Later on, she seemed more inclined to make things better for me. She moved an easy chair into the room and we shifted a piece of furniture so that I could see out the window. But it felt…decidedly awkward.

At any rate, since I didn’t really have an option, I settled in. I was permitted to use a shelf in the fridge. I unpacked my clothes and began to plan the next few days. The weather was really miserable; cold, rainy, windy and not at all conducive to being outside. In addition to that, I was in a bit of a funk due to my scuttled camping plans, the unexpected change in what I thought was going to be a private cottage and the current events swirling around me in a miasmatic cloud.

However. I was warm and dry. The bed was comfortable and the internet was fast. I had my Kindle and my knitting and a bottle of very nice orange wine I had picked up at a roadside stand. I had fresh oranges and candied pecans. I had a comfy chair. I took a deep breath (well, several) and regrouped. I had things to plan!

My adopted son, Jimmy, lives in Palatka, about 45 minutes from St Augustine. He moved himself down here more than 20 years ago, and despite many (many) medical and emotional setbacks, he finally seems grounded. He and his friend John have made themselves a home and they, along with John’s brother and mother, are a family. It was good to see him.

I also took myself to the movies (“The Last Showgirl” – quite good!) and a local theater, where I saw “Crimes of the Heart.” I checked out a little coffee shop/pub/art gallery.

My last day, I drove up to Jacksonville and saw a production of “Tosca.” This was with a MeetUp group and they had arranged a wine-tasting, a pre-show talk and discount orchestra seats! It was a fully staged touring production in the very impressive Performing Arts Center.

The singers playing Tosca and Scarpio were excellent. But the tenor, the romantic lead Mario…well. His voice was okay and he had great tone on the high notes. But he was this short, dumpy-looking guy. And Tosca was this bodacious babe. She had better chemistry with Scarpio. Of course, he’s a lech and she stabs him, so there’s that. Typical Puccini where everyone dies at the end. I enjoyed it very much!

The next morning, I was packed and out before 9:00am. I never did get an explanation as to why I was booked in the wrong place, nor any offer of a discount or refund or any kind of compensation. It was all very strange. I wrote what I thought was an honest review and I hope they can get their act together. And maybe communicate better?

At any rate, I had been checking the weather and it looked like there would be sun and warmth west – nearer to Tampa. I found a lovely campground that was part of a Presbyterian Camp and Conference Center. And now…here I am! And it’s 75°, sunny, quiet and perfect!

Love when you can
Cry when you have to
Be who you must
That’s a part of the plan
Await your arrival
With simple survival and one day, we’ll all understand

Sometime last summer, I started thinking about how much I hated the cold, dark days of January and February. I determined to get out of New England for that time and decided to take myself, my tent, my kayak and the rest of my camping gear south to some of the excellent state parks in Florida and Georgia. Although I normally don’t like long drives, I would do the trip in 4 days, never spending more than 8 hours on the road. And at this point, the phrase “polar vortex” was not on my radar.

I planned my first day to be short…just over the border to New Jersey. Over the George Washington Bridge. Only I had forgotten (or never realized!) what a shit-show driving over that bridge is. To make matters worse, I misjudged the time, so I was heading over the bridge just as it began to get dark. The traffic was hideous and even my GPS got confused. I ended up going north when I wanted to go south, having to backtrack, make a huge loop around and try again. By that time it was full dark and my hands were gripping the steering wheel way too tightly. When I finally emerged into New Jersey there were what seemed like endless on and off ramps before merging onto Route 46…which would bring me to my hotel.

I had chosen this hotel because it looked like it was conveniently right off the highway. And it was. But it was not convenient. The entrance was a right turn, directly across an entrance ramp. Where many, many vehicles were zooming onto the road. I slowed. I put my blinker on. I looked. I looked again. It was clear. I turned…and saw in front of me a pickup truck, barreling across my path. It accelerated and swerved slightly as I continued to turn. I think I missed it by an inch. Maybe less. As I pulled into the hotel parking lot, I realized I’d been holding my breath and my hands were shaking. I sat there for a few minutes, immobile. But I was safe. And I had wine and chocolate.

The rest of the journey was, thankfully, uneventful. A stop in Chester, VA and another stop in Savannah, GA and then I arrived at my camping spot. A farm in Lady Lake, Florida called “Lazy K Ranch.” I set up camp and relaxed.

Although the weather was a bit chillier than I had hoped, it was a far cry from the 12° I had left in Massachusetts. I toasted Florida in front of my campfire.

The next few days were in the 50s and 60s, but a bit rainy, so I did some exploring. I went up to “The Villages”, a purpose-built over-55 community that seemed like a kind of Disneyland for adults. There were four “themed” towns, with building façades designed to evoke a specific atmosphere. I went to the movies in the “old West” area and met a friend for dinner and show in the “Spanish” themed town. Everything was very tidy and picturesque, in a kind of cardboard cut-out sort of way. Old folks zoomed around on their golf carts and recorded music played out of discreetly placed speakers. Ersatz living at its best.

I took a drive up to Ocala and visited the Appleton Museum, which had a surprisingly good and interesting collection.

Since I love local history, I paid a visit to the site of Fort King, where some of the 50+ years of conflict with the Seminole Tribe occurred. The Seminoles fought valiantly for their land, and in a just world, they’d still be living there.

My last day at the farm, the sun came out and the temperatures were in the 70s, much more like the Florida weather I had hoped for. I sat in the sun, read, knit and looked at the animals. There were horses, cows and two very robust goats who came up to you for pets like dogs.

After I packed up on Saturday, I drove over to Mt Dora, a cute little village with lots of craft stores, trendy clothing boutiques and antique shops. I met up for lunch with an old high school friend, her husband and a spare man she had brought along. I think she was trying to play matchmaker and while no sparks flew, it was a good time.

For the next two days, I had booked myself a room on Ormond Beach. It was a funny little place. Called itself “condos” and promised a beach view balcony with every unit. My room had a Murphy bed that folded down out of the wall and rendered the two nightstands inaccessible once in the down position. Had a laundry room, but only coin operated and no change machine (and I’m not in the habit of carrying a roll of quarters around.) It did not have a balcony, but did have a large picture window where if you turned your head just right, you could see a sliver of ocean. But it was warm and heated and had a couch, a fridge, a microwave and Netflix on the TV. I made myself comfortable and settled in to wait out the thunder and lightning storm that had rolled in.

The second day, the sun peeked out in the late afternoon and I was able to go for a walk on the beach. It felt good to have my bare toes in the sand and the temperature was still mild.

I was then supposed to be off to my next camping adventure, at a beautiful out-of-the-way state park called Faver-Dykes. But the predicted weather looked increasingly dreadful. Temperatures in the 40s, rain, wind and ice! Too much even for a seasoned camper like me. I canceled the campground and booked a cozy little AirBnB just outside of St Augustine. And that’s where I am now!

One day you’ll look to see I’ve gone
For tomorrow may rain, so I’ll follow the sun
Some day you’ll know I was the one
But tomorrow may rain, so
I’ll follow the sun