Summer Fruit

Some days it's just too danged hot to fish. If you don't get to the water by daybreak, you have to wait until 8:30 or 9:00 p.m. for sunset. In between is pure murder. For the last few days the temperature where I live has walked both sides of the 100-degree mark. Along with an almost saturated atmosphere, the days can be brutal.

That's when I turn to another of my favorite things. I like to go to the farmer's market and load myself down with fresh-off-the-farm fruits and vegetables. Today I went and found ears of sweet corn, shelled butter beans and peas, okra, cucumbers, tomatoes and much more. On the same table were blackberries the size of my thumbnail, nectarines, watermelons, cantaloupe and peaches. Yes, I said peaches.

Peaches hold a special place in my life, as they are the oldest known smell to me. As a consequence, I like to hold a slightly firm, but fuzzy peach up to my face so I can drink in its nectar-filled essence in my nose. It sometimes is so heady, I get dizzy. I hold it such that I can put my mouth on the cleft at its top and begin to lightly nibble the fuzz until the first of the juice runs into my mouth. Now, some people like to peel their peaches, but I have no preference. Eating the skin is just as good as eating one that's peeled.

After a while I reach a point when all caution and deliberateness are thrown to the wind, and I just dive in. This ensures not only that I get the maximum pleasure from its taste in the shortest amount of time, but I manage to always have its juices drip down off my chin and onto my clothes. Although I don't care, these drips sometimes make for embarrassing moments when I get around others later on. But I rarely notice, as the moment with the peach in my mouth, with its exquisite feel and taste, overcomes all else.

And then, after I've eaten my fill, all that's left is the pit. Now back when I sailed merchant ships I learned how to carve pits from an old salt. It provided me countless hours of entertainment while I practiced my skills as a carver. Although I don't remember their sequence now, there are only 10 cuts to make (in order) that result in a monkey holding its tail between its legs. I do so wish I remembered that one!

But after I'm sated, my favorite dish to make with the surviving peaches is cobbler. I know, it's not the least bit good for me, but it tastes so good.

And it reminds me of how much fun I have eating a peach.

Little River Adventure

The Little River between US90 and Lake Talquin near Talahassee was the scene of the next big adventure. JW, her friend D and I started what was supposed to be a 9 1/2 mile 'go with the current easy paddle' at 10:30 a.m. About 15 minutes later I flipped at one of the first snags. It was a combination of current, wind and inexperience that did me in. Maybe not in that order, either.

The boat dumped me as it went sideways to the current and wind, fetching up against the tree blocking the way. I was pushed up against the underwater limbs and got snagged on one. I was disoriented and started to panic before I remembered the old surfer's trick of letting out a few bubbles to see which way 'up' was. In the murky, muddy water I followed the bubbles.

D and J were on me in a flash. I knew I'd lost my shoes and probably my dry bag. Unfortunately my dry bag had my keys, wallet, phone and snacks to ward off the effects of diabetes during the trip in it. I was devastated, but there wasn't much I could do about any of it on Sunday anyway. The only option was to cry, and I didn't take that one. So we emptied the boat of water (that's when I decided not to tell them I'd been stuck in the tree underwater) on a sandbar and kept on going. Only later downstream did I discover my dry bag with my toes, jammed up into the bow. And everything in it was safe and sound and dry.

I immediately tied the bag to the boat! But the real funny part was that my hat and sunglasses stayed put on my head. It's funny what happens or doesn't happen 'in the twinkling of an eye.'

From there the trip kept getting longer and longer. We paddled; we went over, through and under obstructions; we paddled until we were dog tired. But, by then we'd reached the lake, thinking our adventure was just about over. But, nnnoooooo. Finding our take-out point took over and hour on a wind-blown lake with waves and rain. I was so tired I called Fishing Buddy Charles (FBC) hoping that he was on the lake that day. Alas, he wasn't, but he offered to drive from our home in GA to come and rescue us. He's that kind of guy.

But, all was not lost. We saw loads of turtles, a few 'gators and ospreys and their nests. The wild birds were awe-inspiring as well as breath-taking. And, we all ended up with stories to tell about the day.

Afterwards, we cleaned up at J's, and I cooked chicken cordon bleau while J made a killer spinach dip. We were so hungry we cleaned it all out. D had brought over a FL DOT map that showed where we had been, and figured out our 9 1/2 mile trip was more like 13. Remember I said we put in at 10:30? Well, we had hauled out, totally exhausted at 3:30 p.m.

What a day!