Welcome

Our weekend retreat is a small farm where my husband lived as a child. Our property joins a state park whose high bluffs overlook the Apalachicola River. The park is named for an extremely rare species of Torreya tree that only grows on the bluffs along the river. Its forests of hardwood trees provide the finest display of fall color found in Florida.
Walking in the woods on our property is an altogether different experience in winter than in the sunny, hot Florida days of summer. Today was one of those fine days of winter - like I was cheating fate or something close to it! It was cold and the wind livened the treetops. The foliage smelled so pungent I expected to see branches swinging after the rapid departure of a bear, deer or wild hog around every bend. The sky was cobalt blue high above the towering trees heavy with golden leaves. My canopied path, which meanders under a huge magnolia, oaks and pine trees, was mossy and damp with a mixture of slugs, dead leaves and pine needles. A hundred yards away is a steep decline - a ravine clogged with dense underbrush and trees. It is home to a rare Magnolia tree and at the very bottom a shallow stream flows year-round from a small spring. My walk did not include scrambling or crawling: both would have been needed had I ventured into that ravine.
There was a time when I never spent an hour at our farm without my laptop computer. I no longer need it in order to feel productive. My basic extras today were layered clothing, a baseball cap, sunglasses, sunscreen, an I-Pod with my favorite music, mittens, excellent walking shoes, sugar-free candy and water. Was I cold? Sometime. Was I miserable? Heck no! My walk is never long or ambitious and my path elevation is minimal. And, ahem, I am always within shouting distance of the farmhouse and my husband’s eagle eye.