Foggy Mornings

Peering outside the past few mornings I see nothing but gray--fog lays low across the ground. Skeletal fingers of Spanish moss droop even closer to the ground and the cat stares intently out the window trying to figure out why she can't see anything. Here at our latest campground the distant sound of a freight train is muffled by the fog and its warning horn sounds lonely. Judging by the darkened windows of the RVs around us, Patches and I are the only ones up at this hour as we await the dawn. Sustained by a cup of coffee and bird song, I gather my thoughts for a blog entry and begin to plan our day. The two hours I have in the morning before Denny rolls out of bed are my "alone" time, something you need when you live with someone in a 36 foot box twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.

The humidity in Florida is not the only thing different from Arizona. The campgrounds out west have activity directors that have extensive lists of things to do for people with lots of time on their hands. Here, not so much. Pokeno, some bingo, line dancing in the morning. Apparently in Florida you make your own fun. This week Denny and I have some business to take care of so the lack of activities won't matter, although I'd would have enjoyed a water aerobics class. I don't think they heat their pools here in Florida and after the 20 degree nights last week, I'm not going to be jumping into any swimming pools anytime soon. Sooner or later I'll get back into that routine.

Diesel fuel prices have once again gone through the roof, but perhaps I can talk Denny into a trip to the Homosassa area to see the manatees. It's been a long time since we've seen a manatee. I think we're due.