Floating

Four years ago, slumped on a sofa in a cottage in Southampton, NY I was watching the weatherman on television. He was flailing in front of a map of the east coast of America. He was advising in the manner of a preacher predicting Armageddon that we were in for ‘the storm of the century!’ He advised the swift purchase of a month’s worth of supplies. ‘Buy a shovel,’ he urged with enthusiasm, ‘Buy flashlights and batteries!’

‘Sod off!’ I replied to the television, ‘I’m buying a ticket to Florida!’

And I did, and ever since that auspicious moment I’ve been a Key West resident resplendent in ample sunshine and yearly access to the warm ocean in which to float and gloat about my chilly northern past.

By chance, for a weekend, I find myself returned to the end of Long Island, to stay with great old friends. I am reminded of the intangible beauty of this place, the playful light, the romance of ochre leaves and open fields.

Indoors there are floor to ceiling fireplaces of ornately carved stonework with raucous spluttering fires to stand beside and watch the world outside. Outside is a gorgeous display of wind blown trees and driving sleet and while evocative I have no desire to don five thousand layers and venture out. In fact, I’ve yet to step a toe outdoors since arriving Friday.

No, instead I fill yet another deep hot bath and submerge and make-believe I’m at the beach. Interrupting my self delusion are the sounds of windowpanes whimpering against the forces of mother nature, doors popping open from suction only to slam closed on themselves, for no one, or maybe ghosts.

I believe the winter is jealous of colorful nature, forever trying to denude it until it is left naked and beseeching. But we all know this is a temporary victory and come spring all will reverse with proliferating buds and shrubs.

Sure my heart feels a tug and I’m tantalized, in a way I think of here as home. But I’ve been known to try and put down stakes in hotel rooms, ‘I could live here!’ is a common refrain of mine.

Before dawn tomorrow I’ll be sitting on a jet plane wending south, and ‘home’. And despite my slight ambivalence quite likely the first thing I’ll say, swaddled instantly in balmy heat, is, ‘I could live here!’

3 thoughts on “Floating

  1. You make everywhere you go sound so tantalizingly enticing with your stunning use of descriptive lingo. You’ve always travelled far and wide and always will – having an ultra low boredom threshold.

    You will always return to the places you love – so it’s not goodbye to your beloved Flo & NY, just au revoir and a toute l’heure!! xxx

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