Biking
One-Word Wednesday 11/24/21
Tag: Savannah
My Saturday Evening Post: “Who Let the Fish Out? A Trawling Adventure on the Sea Dawg”
Last month, Robert and I took our second day trip over to the University of Georgia’s Marine Extension and Sea Grant on Skidaway Island.
“By advancing research, education and training, and outreach, UGA Marine Extension and Georgia Sea Grant promotes the economic, cultural and environmental health of Georgia’s coast and prepare citizens to become good stewards of coastal ecosystems and watershed resources.” — Marine Extension and Sea Grant website
A cloudy day, with rain threatening, we braved our away onto the Sea Dawg, UGA’s 43’ research vessel.
Here’s how UGA described our adventure …
Here’s Robert looking excited and normal (and a little bit like a dark Gilligan) …
And here’s me with a sort of seated and crazed I’m-not-so-sure-about-this-floating-Dawg-thing look …
We did two trawls, and although at first glance each catch looked like it held basically one type of little fish, upon closer inspection there were a couple of dozen different fish species, as well as sting ray, jellyfish, sponges, coral, etc.
Thankfully, these trawls on the salty Wilmington River brought up very little trash.
We can’t wait for the next adventure on the water. Thanks, UGA. Woof.
T-Shirt Tuesday: Back & Body
In a souvenir store on Broughton Street here in Savannah …
T-shirts telling the truth get on my last nerve.
Neal’s Post from the Past: “Sometimes I Get What I Deserve”
Here’s an old post from way back in 2014 (when I was still late middle-age).
So today I ate lunch at Savannah’s hip Green Truck Neighborhood Pub on Habersham Street.
Here’s how the story went down.
As some of you know, I no longer bring meat into the house–it’s all vegetables, fruits, legumes, nuts and seeds there. But I occasionally indulge while eating out. And for some some reason, today I had an all-too-powerful-to-ignore-or-resist hankering for a hunk of grilled meat. So I pulled up to the Green Truck, belly-ed up to the bar to avoid the table wait and ordered the Green Truck Classic Burger, described in their menu as “plain and simple as an old truck: lettuce, tomato, onion and our soon-to-be-famous house-made pickle.” (I added cheddar.)
Yum. No, double yum!
I kept furtively looking around to see if any of my vegetarian friends might have followed me inside. I was nervously poised to slam my meaty plate in front of one of the folks on either side of me at the bar.
Anyway, I savored every moment, every bite. (Do Not Tell Anyone About This! It’s Just Between You And Me.)
Well, when I finished, (and be forewarned, the rest of the story is probably TMI, so stop right now, if you like, and you will still have my burger story), I went to the non-gender-specific bathroom–I’m so 2014– before waddling back to the car.
There was the coolest retro sink inside.
And the typical cabinet.
But for some reason I glanced at the cabinet again …
… and thought, “I wonder what’s in that little cabinet? And if the contents are also non-gender-specific?”
(P.S. When inviting me to birthday or Avon parties, put some of those plastic child resistant lock things on your cabinets. I’ve never been able to figure them out.)
So, of course I reached up and opened the cabinet door. Wouldn’t you? No?! (I also opened a door in a huge hallway in the Biltmore House in Asheville some years back, and a piercing alarm went off, terribly embarrassing my family and friends. Me? When things like that happen, I just try to go to my Happy Place inside and block out externals. There might have been an “Alarm Will Sound” notice on the door, I can’t remember, but really, how often would the Biltmores have changed the batteries?)
Lo and behold, an alarm of sorts also went off when I opened the cabinet door inside the Green Truck’s non-gender-specific bathroom. Here’s what was scrawled on the inside of the door:
I walked out of the bathroom beet red.
(P.S. II: I was so taken aback by the message that I completely forgot to see what was inside the cabinet. If someone wouldn’t mind, would you rush over to the Green Truck, pretend to have to use the bathroom, and snap a pic or two of the inside of that cabinet so I can go to sleep tonight? Thank you.)
I Love Our D.A.!
My stomping ground, Historic District Savannah, is a lovely place anytime of the year. But D.A (Downtown Autumn) is especially beautiful—and comes in a pretty close second to our Azalea-d Spring.
On a stroll this morning, I decided to ignore the leftover Halloween displays and just concentrate on Fall. Here’s a sampling of what yelled “Hello there, look at me!”
Glorious stairs, leading Up:
Wreaths:
Boots:
Camellias (Savannah’s “cold weather azaleas”) ready to burst into bloom—and a few getting a head start:
Ralph:
Odds and ends:
A pink pumpkin:
A cool courtyard:
Two hanging baskets, who drew me close and whispered, “Please. Please. Get us outta here. Haven’t we grown enough?”
Loquats—a native Chinese fruit found growing More often than you would think in historic district courtyards and tree lawns.
And finally, our fair abode, which now seems sorta shadowy compared to all those others I walked by.
But what a beautiful D.A. we have here in Savannah’s Historic District. Thank you, Autumn.
T-Shirt Tuesday: “If You Can’t”
Solid advice.
Miles to Go
After Forsyth Park Farmers Market-ing Saturday morning, Robert and I were walking home, minding our own business, when out of the blue, the Universe spoke to me again. (A fairly common occurrence these days.)
“It’s the end of October,” I thought. “Isn’t it a little late for hydrangeas to still be blooming?” But glancing up and down the row of bushes, I noticed that all the other hydrangeas were NOT blooming, except for this LONE, stubborn survivor.
I was mesmerized, the bloom just SO very June fresh.
“It’s rude to stare,” she interrupted my thoughts, a bit offended.
“Sorry, I didn’t meant to stare. But I’m floored to see you here when all of your … your brothers and sisters are … are less than alive.” (My awkward attempt to avoid further rudeness.)
“May I ask why you ARE still here?” I timidly wondered.
Her demeanor shifted, and she smiled the tiniest of smiles.
“I suppose you can, but I’ll let Frost answer for me.”
The woods are lovely dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
“Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” by Robert Frost
I walked home with lively, renewed fervor in my step.
Sometimes
Last evening, Robert and I headed over to Big Bon Pizza in the hip Starland District of Savannah. (Being so hip myself, I like going to hip locations. As long as my right hip cooperates.) After voraciously enjoying their WONDERFUL hot-outta-the-brick-oven pizza …
… the Universe spoke to me as I waddled past Big Bon Bodega/Big Bon Pizza’s sandwich board:
An enlightening message I most definitely need to heed much more often!
(Even with the comma issue. 😩 Retired English professor.)
Here’s my mental activity as I continued waddling to the car:
Now isn’t that better?
Wait a second! Halt the waddling! Did I really just proofread and edit THE UNIVERSE?!
Neal‘s Post from the Past: “Merry Autumn”
Fall is most definitely my favorite season of the year. Even with its touch of “summer’s over” melancholy, autumn slowly paints the world with warmly joyful colors, smells and scenes. The season makes me feel energized and ready to start anew (maybe partly because I’m a retired educator and still connect fall to the new school year).
Autumn wants to make us pause and smile.
Here’s a terrific poem, by late 19th century poet Paul Laurence Dunbar, which shows fall’s happy face. Read it out loud to feel, as well as see and hear, the words.
Merry Autumn
It’s all a farce,—these tales they tell
About the breezes sighing,
And moans astir o’er field and dell,
Because the year is dying.
Such principles are most absurd,—
I care not who first taught ‘em;
There’s nothing known to beast or bird
To make a solemn autumn.
In solemn times, when grief holds sway
With countenance distressing,
You’ll note the more of black and gray
Will then be used in dressing.
Now purple tints are all around;
The sky is blue and mellow;
And e’en the grasses turn the ground
From modest green to yellow.
The seed burs all with laughter crack
On featherweed and jimson;
And leaves that should be dressed in black
Are all decked out in crimson.
A butterfly goes winging by;
A singing bird comes after;
And Nature, all from earth to sky,
Is bubbling o’er with laughter.
The ripples wimple on the rills,
Like sparkling little lasses;
The sunlight runs along the hills,
And laughs among the grasses.
The earth is just so full of fun
It really can’t contain it;
And streams of mirth so freely run
The heavens seem to rain it.
Don’t talk to me of solemn days
In autumn’s time of splendor,
Because the sun shows fewer rays,
And these grow slant and slender.
Why, it’s the climax of the year,—
The highest time of living!—
Till naturally its bursting cheer
Just melts into thanksgiving.
— by Paul Laurence Dunbar
NealEnJoy 