The Forgotten Coast

     Winter has been doled out in small doses in the panhandle. We have a string of days in the 70’s broken by a couple days of rain and chilly weather. There was a storm this morning just before daylight with lightening that split the sky and lighted the park. Gracie, Baby, and Dylan cuddled next to me on the queen-size bed, listening to the rain and thunder. Just after daylight the rain stopped and it was warm enough for just a light jacket on our walk to check out the beach this morning. This afternoon it’s sweatshirt weather.
    The sea was as still this morning as the storm had been fierce. The flying fish were skipping across the surface in splashes. A flock of cormorants floated just beyond the pier. This is called “The Forgotten Coast.” Not much has changed here in decades. There is little development along the coast (unlike Alabama, where the coastline was a wall of high-rise condominiums). Many of the businesses in Carrabelle still have family names, and except for the vehicles and a satellite dish or two, you would have no idea what decade this is.   
     Tides are a mystery to me. Today low tide was 4:20 AM and high tide will be at 8:41 tonight, and there won’t be much difference in the height of the water. Tomorrow the tides will each be about an hour later. But Friday there will be two low tides, at 6:19 AM and 5:15 PM and two high tides, 3:06 and 10:54 PM, and there will be drastic differences in low and high tide. Friday should be a good day to find shells. The last trip to WalMart (30 miles away in Crawford) I bought polka-dot rain boots, so I can slosh around in the mud. Gracie is happy.  
     Neighbors Lee and Doyle helped me figure out the jacks, so the Goose is level and stable, and all the doors open and close easily. Unfortunately they also discovered that the Goose desperately needs an alignment, as the tires I bought in August are nearly eaten through. I will call Camping World in Tallahassee and schedule an appointment before I go further. I’m staying here until February 20^th,  so I am in no hurry. . . .       
    Yesterday Lee and I got a burlap sack half full of oysters ($17) at a broker in Carrabelle who buys from the fishermen and supplies local restaurants. The owner was happy to demonstrate how to hold the barnacle-encrusted shell, insert the knife at the hinge, and deftly separate the halves to reveal the meat within, in about 15 seconds. She grinned as she slurped it down out of the shell before tossing them into the pile in the front yard.
     I have to wonder who first looked at an oyster and thought, “Looks like good eating!”
     It took me 90 minutes to shuck a dozen oysters. I tried one raw (a first for me), on a cracker with a little horseradish, the preferred method among my neighbors of eating them. It was interesting, but I think I prefer them cooked. Dinner last night was steamed oysters, baked potato and vegetables.
     Two years ago this month I was turned down for food stamps and living on the sweet potatoes from my back yard. One year ago this month I was (incorrectly) diagnosed with ovarian cancer. I know the word “amazing” is over used, but I keep running out of ways to describe my life. I’m living a few feet from an ever-changing ocean in a comfortable home with my loving pets, having great new experiences with new friends. Amazing.