Memories of Rain

Port Saint Joe - The Bay in Rain

Memories of rain; standing at the window waiting for my dad to come home. The wind is blowing and I can hear the ocean roaring as it hits the sand harder and harder. My mom and neighbors are boarding up the picture window as Camille is going to be close. Waiting and watching for my dad.

Early morning the summer before 9th grade my first real boyfriend and I, Allen are walking in a soft warm rain. Too young to date or drive, our morning ritual is to awake early and walk the paths of the forest to watch the sun rise, that day when it began to drizzle we just kept going.

Rain, the sound, the smell and the feel can be soft and refreshing or harsh and brutal much like love and life itself. Today the rain has been soft, going on and on feeding the thirsty plants in my much neglected garden. They are so thankful even the tall and proud Goldenrod has bent its head in thanks.

My first date with Frank was in the rain… riding to Augusta GA in that wonderful sexy red Mustang. The rain was falling and the one and only working wiper did little to keep Frank’s window clean, I was blind to what lay ahead and drunk with the notion that I didn’t care as I was in love and loved back. Running on Empty by Jackson Browne was playing on the radio as we flew through the rain towards our future.
It rained the day we were married, not a hard rain but soft and gentle and just enough of it to move the wedding inside, it was still beautiful. Crisp and clean, the colors of Fall touching the trees and making them glow.

We have fished in the rain, moved in the rain and mourned in the rain over the past 30 plus years, nothing makes me more humble or feeling alive than the sound of the rain hitting the trees or dripping on the porch. It’s reminder that life goes on and if just let it, life will wash your cares away.
May you my friends always have enough rain in your lives to give you rainbows.

Time Passages

Loosing time, time well spent, time in a bottle, time again and again. Time is a wonderful thing or rather it can be, you can have too little or too much on your hands and many people waste it as I have been guilty of.

I went to sleep on Thursday morning September 16 and awoke to my full senses on Monday, September 20th with but bits and pieces of the prior days and nights even remembered. My surgery went well but my reaction to morphine did not, to boot I developed a yeast infection in my gut from the antibiotics they were giving me.

I still have to stop and realize that more than a week has gone by and I slept through it and even now I taking 2 naps a day to help my body get back to its hold self. My biopsy was benign so that was a relief but getting back into the eating and drinking game is giving me a fit. Not only do I not have a great deal of thirst but nothing taste the same or very good. I will have to give it time.

My New Old Flame...

Years ago while I young woman I fell in love with a handsome and often spirited gentleman from England. He kept me company many a cold night and whether I was lonely or not was not the question as he always seemed to be at hand.


Some where in my thirties I threw him off for many who claimed they would calm me, were  in the natural, the know and with it, not! Tonight as I settle in with a hot mug of Earl Grey I am pleased to note that there is still and Earl of Grey, the 6th in fact according to my Twinnings box and so very thankful for that envoy from China so long ago who presented the second Earl Grey with this blend of tea, it has brought me much bliss.


Jean-Luc Picard played by Patrick Stewart drinks Earl Grey; what a thought a bald french speaking star ship captain and a cup of Earl Grey... yummy. Don't worry Frank knows how I feel about old Jean-Luc, in fact I told him once if he'd look like that bald I'd shave his head for him. Any way back to Earl Grey, seems the secrets not the tea itself as it black tea, but that its infused with this wonderful citrus fruit called Bergamot or Bergamot Orange. Size of an Orange, color of a Lemon and shaped like a Pear. Found growing in Italy and Spain.

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Lines and Stripes

When I think of types of lines I recall my childhood and the beautiful Wisteria vine my mother had growing on her clothesline post. During the Spring it would bloom and scent the entire neighborhood with its lovely smell...

Of  course being married to an avid fishermen, I know that a line is something you can cast, catch a fish on, break, tangle and cut. I have done all of these. This summer our granddaughter Dorie caught a Striped Bass on her line and her Papa put it on a stinger for her to hold up for a picture.... she thought it smelled badly.

Dorie in her striped shorts holding her striped bass.

Growing up in Florida I have been privileged to view or visit many lighthouses and many of them have some sort of stripes in their pattern. Out of the all the lighthouses in the world, no two are painted the same so that sailors can identify them by their pattern.

St. Augustine Lighthouse

I have included a picture of some of my tomatoes I grew this summer, look closely as some of them are "zebra" striped with red and green.

Bowl of Heirloom Tomatoes.

I wanted to let all of you at My Town Shootouts and my followers know that I will not be actively blogging after September 16th for weeks as I am having my ascending colon removed and a colon reconnection done. During a routine exam for polyps they discovered a mass that holds a high percentage rate of being cancerous so the standard procedure is to remove the area (including lymph nodes and blood supply).

While I may not feel up to blogging I will try to keep up with what you all are doing. Take care, Camella