Fair are the meadows...

Today's and yesterday's roadtrips through Georgia and Tennessee reminded me of an old hymn we used to sing--  "Fair are the meadows, fairer still the woodlands
                         Robed in the blooming garb of spring..."

In some of the areas the trees were already all in leaf.  The most beautiful sight, however, were the
Flowering Dogwood trees. I hadn't seen similar trees since we lived in British Columbia many years ago.  When I first saw them along the highway, I exclaimed, "Those are dogwood trees!"  Not only were there clouds of white in the woods, but beautiful pink trees in people's gardens and in the city. Some of them were actually pink dogwood, but there were also peach, almond, and redbud blossoms.

It had been a trying day.  First of all, we were driving farther than we had intended, and we were tired.
Then Terry had been told his Visa card was at risk, and ended up having it cancelled, and the number changed.  At least we still had my card. That means I'm the one who goes into each gas station to activate the pump and pay for our gas.
From somewhere I remembered that the dogwood flower had special symbolism.  The four white "petals", which are really bracts, are opposite each other sort of in the shape of a cross.  When I looked closely at them, I could see the little red spot which reminded me of the blood Jesus shed for us.

 The rest of the verse in the hymn:

"Jesus is brighter, Jesus is purer
Who makes the woeful heart to sing."
 
For ever since the world was created, people have seen the earth and sky.  Through everything God made, they can clearly see his invisible qualities. --his eternal power and divine nature.  So they have no excuse for not knowing God.  Romans 1:20 (NLT)

Off Shore Angler

 Islamorada is known as the deep sea fishing capital of the world.  At the very end of our 3 week stint, the wind finally calmed down enough to allow us another new adventure!  I had a new hat, ( my "old friend" of 25 years was lost last weekend), and my Sea-Bands.

 Jennifer had found AC a beautiful shirt patterned with swordfish at the thrift shop the other day.  "I hope I don't catch one that big!" he laughed.  Jennifer herself had taken an anti-nausea pill.  We were ready! 

After some instruction on how to handle our fishing rods, we were off, heading toward the Gulf Stream, a couple of miles offshore.  That's where the fish were supposed to be.
 

As soon as the boat stopped we untied the rods that had been coralled at the railing, and attached strips of squid to the two hooks. Reserved spots were at the stern, where the wake of the boat churned up the  fish, while the rest of us lined ourselves up on the sides.
  Jennifer was the first to catch a fish, earning us the code name of "shaved nose" for our fish. All the fish were put into a bucket of ice and identified by special markings like 3 slashes, or a gash on the throat. Later, on the wharf, the two young men in charge called out the codes, and we claimed our fish.
Terry and I fished patiently.  It took me awhile to figure out the reel, and I kept releasing my thumb at the wrong time, much to Terry's annoyance.  He was the one who got the line straight again.  At one point my line seemed stuck on the ocean floor.  One of the young men in charge took my rod.  "You have a fish, Dear", he said patronizingly, and handed me the back the rod. 

 Bracing myself against the side of the boat, I reeled it in. It was one of several White Grunts our group caught.

Finally we sat down, but the horizon kept going up and down.  These were two to three foot swells, the waves seeming to go in no particular direction. Terry tied up his rod and said, "I should've put on those Sea-bands earlier.  His nausea subsided after a while, but Jennifer leaned over the railing at one point, as did the young man to my right. 

  The young men quickly filleted the fish and the four of us took home enough fish to feed a small crowd. Terry fried them up, and we had an impromptu feast.

Feeding the multitudes

Every Tuesday night the tiny Baptist church in Islamorada serves dinner to whomever wanders through the door.  A different group brings the main dish every week. Last week it was the firemen, today the ladies of the Catholic church. Restaurants of the area donate leftover food, which someone picks up.   Some of us SOWERs have also wandered in to help them serve.  Today a lady approached Terry, whom she already knew by name.  "We have a "project, " she said, and off they went to see what it was.  Terry and a muscular SOWER friend ended up moving some old furniture to the dumpster, and clearing out a room. They really worked for their supper.  Mona and I served salad; later we chatted with a woman who had moved to the keys from Peru 15 years ago, when economic conditions were bad there.  Now she sees exactly the same trend in America. 

In the picture the pastor is getting ready to ask the blessing for the food. He spoke for about 2 minutes on a quote from the Bible.  We women smiled at each other; it was just what we had studied at the Women to Women Bible study last week.  The pastor's message was just right, as people's minds were on dinner anyway.  A black man played the guitar and sang in the corner, mostly Frank Sinatra and songs in Spanish.  Mona and I cheered him along and clapped from the salad bar.  At a designated time, people were allowed to heap up take- home containers of food, and choose from other donated foods such as vegetables, fruit, and baked goods.  That table cleared out quickly, as people stuffed their shopping bags.  It was evident that people counted on this food to last them a few days. As we were leaving, a couple of us still managed to bring home a loaf of 100% whole wheat bread.  Somehow that had been overlooked.  It's great for toast in the morning! 

The multitude went away satisfied for another week. 

Treasure hunting

Islamorada is a village composed of four islands.  On the south side is the Atlantic Ocean, on the north, Florida Bay on the Gulf of Mexico.  Island Christian School, where we are camped, is on "Bayside".  A group of us walked behind the playing field to the mangroves. These are tropical trees growing on coastlines all over the world, their roots visible above the waterline, actually nourished from salt water and organic material deposited on the coral base of the islands. 
The trees parted to reveal a miniature dock.  We were going kayaking in bright yellow kayaks.  On the side of the kayak, in small letters, I spied the words "Made in Canada".

No, that's not a toque on my head. I  had tied my sun hat on with a bandana so it wouldn't blow away.  My front seat was comfortable, but later I commented to Terry, "The kayak didn't seem to want to go in the direction I was headed."
"It's the person in the front that does the main steering", he replied.
"So why was I in the front....? "

The water in this little channel was only about a foot deep. Regretfully I left the camera behind.  I had wanted to capture the mysterious journey to the bay, but didn't want salt in it.  We silently glided along , a thick canopy of intertwined branches above, and exposed mangrove roots all around.  I felt like an explorer.  A few minutes later we were in the bay.  I noticed Ed and Becky hugging the shore, peering into the  mangrove thicket.  Their progress was slow, as they appeared to be looking for something. 
"There's one!"  and they wedged their kayak in among the roots and struggled to free something.  Oh, so we were on a mission! They were after Styrofoam floats escaped from crab traps. Retrieving them involved untangling the ropes to which they were attached, from the mangrove roots. 
"It's an Easter egg hunt!" I exclaimed,  as I began to see flashes of colour.  No one had remembered to bring along a knife, so we left Ed and Becky behind in their work to untangle ropes. 
We circled a little island.  Sometimes the water was turquoise blue where it got a little deeper. Passing boats splashed us with the waves they created.  It was nothing like the cold waters off Vancouver Island where we'd kayaked before. 
On the way back I got caught up in the excitement of the hunt.  At one point I actually climbed out of the kayak to balance carefully on the mangrove roots.  Terry is used to my tenacity when it comes to treasure hunting.  I wanted to get what looked like a milk crate hung up in the carpet of roots, but there was no room left on board.  It would have to wait till next time.  What a sight we all were--Steve and Mona trailed a string of three floats behind them, like a line of bobbing ducklings.

Terry and Becky showing off our finds

Apparently after the summer storms, many of these floats break away from their traps and are washed up.  They are not quite as exciting as the round glass orbs, mysteriously floating all the way from Japan, that  my brother and I would occasionally find when we were young.

Burnett's treasures

Various colours and numbers identify the traps.  Each of our RVs now displays unique decorations.  It looks more like Christmas now, than Easter! The other trophy, which later appeared on my legs, was a rash from the coral clinging to the old rope. It was at least a month before it completely disappeared!

A previous collection

Manatee Encounter

"Do you want to get in the water with a manatee?"  asked my neighbour at the SOWERs campsite.  She explained that another neighbour knew someone who lived on a canal, and that they were going over there.  We had just come back from inching our way along in the weekend traffic on the one highway that bisects the Florida Keys, birding and stopping in at a dog event.  I couldn't pass up an opportunity to do something crazy.  After I quickly donned my bathing suit, we found ourselves back on that busy highway. 

living on a canal

Apparently there are several manatees in the canal; today there was only the one small one.  "A teenager",  they called him.
Manatees are also known as "sea cows ".  What I saw as I peered over the edge of the canal was a lumbering, elephant-like beast, only it was in the water.  They are actually related to elephants.  Our neighbour was at the foot of a ladder holding  a hose, and letting the water trickle into the manatee's mouth.  This special attention he loved, and couldn't seem to get enough of. 

"Do you want a turn?" he asked.
 I gingerly climbed down the ladder into the  murky green water, trying to move slowly and quietly.  I was so close I could see the whiskers on his snout, if that's what you call it.  "What does he feel like?" asked Terry from his safe perch.  "Like a walrus!"
"Have you ever felt a walrus?"
"Well, no...but it's what I imagine a walrus to feel like".
  I wished I'd had a brush to scrub the algae from his back.  If you look closely, you can see a plastic piece circling his tail.  In the past, manatees had floating buoys attached to them so ships could see them.  This one had the remnants still on his tail, but attempts to remove it have not worked.  One of the greatest dangers for manatees is getting hit by a boat or its propeller.
After about fifteen minutes in the water, I signalled Terry to take a video. This is the short version.

I can't say swimming with a manatee has been on my "bucket list", but I'm glad I was able to take the opportunity!

The Turtle Hospital

The Turtle Hospital is about 35 miles south of Islamorada at Marathon, on the Keys. 
Did you know sea turtles don't retract their heads or flippers?
Sea turtles are rescued and rehabilitated for various reasons.  They could swallow a bunch of debris like this, left,

This was all extracted from one turtle!

Green Turtle

Or they get tangled in fishline, and have to have a flipper amputated, as on the right.
There are special recycling cylinders on the beaches for used monofilament (fishline)

This turtle is a permanent resident, and is named Bubble Butt. His deformity was caused by an encounter with a boat.

Some turtles have weights glued to parts of their shell, to balance them.  Four kinds of turtles are in the hospital, some permanently. They do have a larger area to swim in.  They would never be able to survive in the wild.  One is going to be released tomorrow, with great ceremony.  The cutest was a little 6 1/2 month old turtle who has never been touched. She is being used for research.

Four of the five Flordian species of sea turtles are endangered, and it is illegal to buy sea turtle products like jewelry (made from real shell, that is), oil, leather, meat, or eggs.
A worthwhile presentation.

Islamorada on the Florida Keys

Terry and I had dropped in at this project in Dec. 2010 while we were visiting our friends in Naples, Florida.  "Hmm, this sounds like something we would like to work at, a Christian school".  It is a "lottery project", one of the ones in the southern "sunbelt".  We had to submit our names, and hope we would be picked to work it.  We were!
The community of Islamorada is several 'keys", islands based on an old coral reef. A busy highway separates "oceanside" from "bayside".  The ocean is easy to see across the road, but the bay is somewhere behind the mangrove trees.   It is tropical here.  The first few days the weather was hot and humid.  It's a little cooler now, 25 degrees Celsius, with a strong wind. Across the highway is a resort with a swimming pool and tennis court we're allowed to use.  So far we've played tennis, but I haven't found a swimming partner yet.  I may have to go alone.

 These are gumbo-limbo trees.  Don't trees have funny names down south?  They're also called "tourist trees".  Can you see why in this next picture?

Their skin is red and peeling like the skin of sunburnt tourists, who are a common sight where these trees grow.  Our awning is up in this picture, but we finally took it down because of the strong winds.

Terry has been doing some outside work, but was stung by wasps in the hedge he was trimming. Oh, the hazards of the job!

  We ladies cleaned the school kitchen, and today I went to school, where I marked (graded) some test papers, helped a little girl with division problems, and helped a boy who didn't read very well in Grade One.  My tendency was to immediately want to "fix" the problem.  Then in my reading in Numbers, I read about the instructions given to Moses about the Levites working in the Tabernacle.  They had to retire at age 50 (!).  After retirement they could assist their fellow Levites, but were not to do the work themselves.  It's hard for us "old folks" to realise that it's more important to enable others to do God's work than to do it ourselves. So I have to help the classroom teacher in the way she wants me to help.

The teachers seem really grateful for the help we give them.  I remember how thrilled I was when people offered to read with the children in my own grade one class.