“It doesn’t get much better than this,” as the saying goes.
Palm Springs, a small town in southern Florida, is home for our friends – the Scovills. Although I met Dawn on the Internet almost a year ago, our first face-to-face encounter was this weekend. Since we’re writing a book together, it seemed appropriate – right?
So, Jeff and I made plans last month and decided on February.
We headed out of Georgia on Friday morning. Making a stop, on the Gulf coast, to rest our weary bones that same evening. Our butts were sore, bodies numb, and we were hungry. It also gave me a chance to introduce Jeff to my Uncle Tom, and his girlfriend, Mary, who live in Fort Myers.
I’ll go into more detail on this digression in another post. This article has another purpose.
As the sun rose smiling on Saturday morning, Jeff and I started our three-hour trip from the Gulf coast to the Atlantic coast of Florida. We made another detour at Echo Farms: Where volunteers learn how to grow produce in assorted, discarded kitchen scraps and outdoor materials. Part of their efforts to decrease hunger in third world countries is to educate the population on growing food with what’s readily available.
We moseyed around the nursery and bookstore for a spell. Jeff purchased a few pamphlets on this particular type of gardening at my request. The drought in Georgia has inspired my researching various gardening methods. Surely, one of them will assist us in keeping Green Hell green while Mother Nature has her expected temper tantrum (more on this later).
Afterwards, Jeff and I headed east again, down 441. The road took us through a barrier of sugar cane, as far as our eyes could see, on both sides of the highway: Unusual, yet in the same token, quite interesting.
We arrived in Palm Springs at approximately three o’clock that afternoon. Dawn was in the parking lot of the Townhouse complex awaiting our approach. I pulled into the best guest spot (Dawn assured me of this fact), turned the key to off, and hopped out. What a relief: My butt felt better already. I hugged Dawn as Jeff grabbed the luggage. It was a comforting embrace: Similar to embracing a long, lost friend after many years.
As I crossed the wooden gate threshold, I spied the patio – THE patio. If one knows Dawn, and her writings, one knows the patio of which I speak. A six foot cactus guards the inside entryway. And the familiar outdoor furniture, I had seen so many times on MySpace, was surrounded by the many flowers, plants, and trees that grew there.
What an enjoyable afternoon we had – talking, beer, munchies, more beer, the two-cent tour, and more beer until dinner. What a great dinner: Ribs, chicken wings, corn on the cob, macaroni salad, and – yep – even more beer. Scott’s secret sauce for the ribs and chicken was one of the great “hits” of the evening. The poor man cooked all afternoon preparing our evening fare. But he did seem to enjoy it – immensely.
So there we were, chopping on a rib bones, sucking down our alcoholic beverages, when the first two guests arrived – Josh and Amy. Hmmm…actually, Jeff and I were the first two guests, so that made Josh and Amy number three and four. It’s hard to count when one has had a lot to drink. Plus, I considered myself at home by the time they arrived. Anyway, these are my excuses for inaccurately counting – pick one.
Through the course of the evening three other people arrived and I had one of the most pleasant evenings of conversation I’ve had in long time. Dawn and Scott have some wonderful friends.
Another “hit” or should I say “hits” was Josh playing guitar and singing. It took some convincing from Josh, but Amy finally chimed in with her angelic voice. What a charming young lady. What great music.
Jeff was able to join in and strum a few tunes as well. What fun.
What a delightful evening.
Thank you so much everyone.