Grandparents on Duty

Quincy is here for the week. Now that he is four and a half years old, life is golden. We went to Weeki Wachee State Park to see the mermaids today. Quincy tells me he has never seen any mermaids and he was eager to go. He was dressed and had his sandals on when he appeared for breakfast. He had his special catalog (many pages of Play Mobile stuff) laid out to go.

The last time Andy and I went to Weeki Wachee was at least thirty years ago when our sons were little, way before we had our home here in Dade City. The drive, about forty-five minutes from here is beautiful through the rolling green hills with very little development. The park, now a state park, is unchanged except for a modest water park addition where there are slides down to the sandy beach on the edge of the freezing cold spring. The water has no odor of chlorine, because the water comes from deep in the aquifer.

It is old Florida, funky but nice. There were people there, but nothing like the throngs at our usual theme parks. We took the boat ride down the river and back. Quincy was interested in all the birds and fish we saw in and along the crystal clear water. But the best part was the mermaid show you see from the underwater theater on the edge of the spring. The story line was a loose interpretation of the Hans Christian Anderson Little Mermaid.

Nothing, to my mind, can top Florida springs for natural beauty, funked up or not. I was up for this! The mermaids appeared and swam so beautifully. The natural creatures of the spring appeared. A couple of turtles swam among the mermaids, and were quite bothersome, pecking at their heads and bellies. The mermaids swatted at them, but they always came back. The clear spring and the bubbles and the mermaids and the prince were lovely. I watched Quincy being enthralled with all this. He covered his ears when the wicked witch took away the little mermaid's voice. "Don't worry," I whisper in his ear.

Quincy liked the peacocks wandering around the premises, occasionally blaring out their happiness with being in this odd place. As Andy dodged a bird outside the men's room he and Quincy had just left, Quincy says, "These are my friends!" Andy cautions him about getting too close to these birds we know to be really dicey.

Quincy sees nothing to entice him in the souvenir stand. He's not an "Iwanna" kid. He reads his catalog all the way home. I tell him that I need some time to read the science section of the NYT so he should play quietly with his trains. And then we put out a huge puzzle on the table in the kitchen and we complete it. Quincy does most of it while scooting around on the the table.

We take time to swim and play by the pool, go on a golf cart ride around the property to see all our favorite places: the blackberry crop (all eaten by racoons), the spread of small pine trees planted by nature from the huge mama pine tree, the pond where the cranes had their nest and hatched their eggs. I had dreaded his questions about this but he was satisfied when I told him that the cranes had flown away and gone north for the summer. "I know where north is," he says. "Are they coming back?" I tell him that they will be back before Christmas. So we slowly move on and pay attention to the cow who will have a calf any day and we know this because the cow looks fat and her udder is huge.

I love having this interesting and beautiful child spend time here. He picks peppers in the garden, looks for tree frogs and gopher tortoises. He is never bored, unfailingly polite, eats anything and sleeps reliably for twelve hours. I have had this pleasure from other grandchildren and it is the spice of life.

Being here on the ranch pretty much full time this year has meant that I could see the tiny increments of the progress of the natural seasons, all tied to the availability of water, and most of all to the light we have in this part of the world. This photo is of one of the raised flower beds. Everything is self-seeded and volunteer. I did plant a few zinnia seeds and they are now in full flower. The humongous cosmos are self seeded and in a few weeks they will be as thick as trees and covered with enormous yellow blossoms. By that time the blanket flowers will have died down and the Mexican petunias will be three feet tall and blooming like crazy. This bed needs no extra water or attention.

The vegetable garden has been the best yet. Tonight we had eggplant, peppers, onions, beans, tomatoes, and the last of the lettuce. I keep thinking that we have gotten the last pickings and then I discover that there are enough beans to feed an army. (I am beginning to hate beans!) But as the last of the vegetables are harvested, there are still more! Throughout the summer we will still have onions, okra, collards, eggplants and peppers. The gourds have become a menace as they climb everywhere, under and over. The bugs have just about given up, having devoured or spoiled the tomato crop.

A few days ago when Andy was going to the grocery store I asked him to buy some asparagus. What?? You, locavore, you want asparagus from maybe Peru or Chile?? Give me a break, I want some different vegetable. We do grow asparagus, but in Florida it is thin pickings and I always speed them directly into my mouth, no extras for the table.

In June I must throw out the vegetable plants that are no longer productive. The compost pile is thick with old bean plants, tomato vines, squashes and weeds. I throw out the household compost and hoe everything under. I notice that next to the compost pile there are a number of volunteers: acorn squash, tomatoes, cucumbers. In that place I let them live if they can!

Here, there is no slack season. There is no time when everything is conveniently dead and dormant. Yes, in January, growth is down to a dull beat, but that is when one puts in the spring garden and then has anxiety fits if it freezes those tender plants! If there is a dormant season it is from late July to early September. But at this time you have to worry about hurricanes, and then all bets are off.

I love this rugged part of America for the fascinating natural world it is. I am appalled to think of how retrograde this state is, how ignorant the electorate, how lightweight is our current governor. I am devoted to reading all letters to the editor in three papers. So many folks think only of themselves and have no clue about the larger good.

If any of you out there are interested, please consider Alex Sink for governor. I have known Alex forever and think highly of her. She's smart (actually brilliant), honest, down-to-earth, modest, possessed with incredible energy, and she knows so much about the finances of the state. Here's something you may never know in the press: little factoid dept. Alex's grandfather was one of the famous Siamese conjoined twins. Eng and.. I forget. Pretty fascinating stuff. Look it up.