[Cont'd from yesterday] By Thursday of last week, Lesley had gone back to Richmond. Jim and I spent the morning exploring the pier and boardwalk of downtown Daytona Beach. We watched local fisherman angling for dinner and surfers angling for a thrill. Another beautiful day. We had our condo till Saturday morning, but had accomplished our aims -- intense fun, communion with nature, fooling around. Time to head home.
We had a picnic lunch with Pat at the Ponce Inlet park, explored the lighthouse and the boardwalk along the shore. Back at her place, we watched her movies of how she and Joe took their van to Alaska and camped out in the wilds all the way to Denali (aka Mt. McKinley). Another excuse for a lively conversation about travel adventures. After we chowed down on the leftovers from Wednesday night's dinner, Pat gave us the quick tour of the 4 giant scrapbooks laying out her family history with vivid color and layout pizzaz. She's done a lot of work trying to capture what life was like in those old days -- so, between her storytelling and her scrapbook finesse, we were awestruck.
Friday morning treated us to the best yet explosive pink sunrise as we headed toward the inland highways. We had talked about taking a leisurely, meandering drive home, but as soon as we hit that open road we were flying -- Florida, Georgia, South Carolina, North Carolina, West Virginia on Friday; Virginia, Pennsylvania, and New York State on Saturday. ZOOM! AAA routed us away from the congested I-95 along the coast. The newer routes I-77 and I-79 to the west are less packed with trucks and megalopolis commuter traffic and soar through some beautiful Appalachian territory.
It feels like weeks ago and here it is only Wednesday. The weather is gray. A bit of snow is falling. We made a big pot of soup to keep us warm. My brain is on fire with ideas and inspirations, so our short dark days are not nearly long enough for all I want to do...