from the porches

mad hatters

Yesterday I went to lunch at Mad Hatters in High Springs with my car-rider buddy, Stacy, and her daughter,Samantha (Sam).  Mad Hatters is a neat looking restaurant with all the colorful objects on the walls and in the yard.

 

 The menu at Mad Hatters is limited, but is ideal for a quick lunch.  I had broccoli quiche and meatball soup. 

The thing that made the lunch so special was spending time with Stacy and Sam.  In another week Stacy and I will be greeting all those wonderful, supportive parents as they drop their little ones off for school.  It is always an adventure on car-rider duty; and if it isn't, we make it one with our jibber-jabber.  By the way, Sam was getting her black belt in Karate last night so she was excited about that.  I learned that Stacy, also takes karate as well.  "Ayeeeeee yahhhhh!"

Now I'll just show you a few of the things sitting around "Mad Hatters."

  I'm not sure what this saying is from: "Wish I could be as care-free and wild-but I got cat class and I got class style."  Does anyone out there know what this means? 

Some of you may remember the giant mushroom I posted about, but now take a look at this giant cupcake sitting in the yard at Mad Hatters. It was at least two feet tall.

 

I may take family to "Mad Hatters" when they visit again, especially on Saturday or Sunday because they have musicians playing on those days. 

So it appears I am trying to squeeze in all the fun I can before I start work on Monday.  My last year of teaching!  Hip hip hooray!  I'm adding to  my Retirement List daily.  It's not that different than my summer list, but it does include things like Tai Chi  and classes at Santa Fe Community College and traveling up north in October to catch the fall colors.  Also on my list is to learn Photoshop.  (Have you heard that before?) And GOLF!

belated birthday brunch

Yesterday I was invited to a very special belated birthday brunch hosted by my friend, Alice Martin.  I worked with Alice in Title I at school for many years; and we often talked about our childhood.  I once told her that since I am a twin I never had my own birthday party.  It was always a party for "the twins."

  

 She remembered that and several years ago Alice threw a birthday party for me, and this week she called and wanted to do it again.  So because of time constraints, a birthday brunch seemed the way to go.

Alice is a very special one-of-a-kind person.  She's creative beyond belief and a wonderful storyteller.  The children often told her she looked like Madeline from the Madeline children books; and I must agree.  Kind of.  Sort of.  

Just entering her yard put me in a whimsical, happy mood.  Not because the belated birthday brunch was for me, but because there was so much to see.  "Alice, your house is like a museum,"  I told her as I made my way to the house.

Clusters of items decorate her house and yard, like these bird houses and flags.

Lots of flags.  Every nook and cranny was filled with antiques; and as Alice put it so well,  "Everything has a story."

It was hard for me to get focused because I wanted to photograph everything in her house.

From bowls to baby dolls in buggies.

Quilts were neatly stacked on shelves adding splashes of color to the rooms.

Eventually, we sat down for the brunch:  Sausage and egg casserole. . .

Biscuits. . .

And chilled fruit.

 

  Yum!  My cake was a muffin with a candle in it, but that picture was too blurry to post.

I got to meet Leo, Alice's four month old Labrador puppy.  He is very friendly and active and likes to chew on anything, including hands.

I took one last shot of the house before it was time to go. 

A framed copy of the New York Times rendition of "Tape-gate".

"Bye bye, now!"  Alice calls.

"Bye, Alice.  Bye Leo,"  I answer.  "Thank you.  I had a great time!"  and I leave, knowing that Alice's life is a story of its own.

pamela

      

This morning I visited my friend, Pamela.  Pamela's children grew up playing with Merry Jennifer and Clay. Even though we live about twelve miles apart, each of our lives have become so busy with work and family and other things, that we rarely see Pamela and Philip.

Visiting Pamela is always a treat.  Her homestead is wild, yet tame in areas.

       

      

I walk cautiously when I'm at Pamela's because Pamela respects all wild critters, whether it's frogs, birds, lizards or snakes.  Often these critters make themselves at home on the porches.

       

                Collections of natural objects fill crooks and crannies.

      

                                            Onion plants air out on a chair.

      

                 Tomatoes ripen among crystals of various shapes and sizes.

      

Pamela personifies the term Mother Earth.  Their family are vegetarian so all the vegetables are grown on their place.

      

As we walked around her yard this morning, I heard bullfrogs croaking in the fern beside this pond.

      

Philip cuts trees for a living and has just recently gone back to work after a terrible accident when a tree jack-knifed and broke several bones in his body.  "Good Morning, Philip."

      

In this photo Pamela and I are sitting at the pool area looking toward their bedroom, a screened-in gazebo.  They both love the night sounds and have slept on mattresses in this gazebo for years.

                

Solar powered icycles collect energy during the day and emit a soft glow at night.

     

After an hour long visit I brought Pamela back to my house so she could see my flowers.  It was the first time in my life I have given Pamel flowers to take home instead of her bringing me flowers.

      

Thanks, Pamela for a wonderful visit and a time to reflect on where we started, both with very young children and both relatively new to the area, and thanks for a chance to feel blessed for all that we have.

          And in the sweetness of friendship

           Let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures.

           And let there be no purpose in friendship

           Save the deepening of the spirit.

                            .Kahil Gibran