Time to let him go

Today, thirty years after his death, I finally released my father's cremated remains - out on a strong outgoing tide of the Hunter's moon - from Siesta Key's, Shell Road, into Sarasota's, Big Pass.  Now a once distant father could be carried far-and-wide across a newly calmed Gulf of Mexico. There he loved to sail.  And, It was about time.

Pages from his 'Rambler's' Log Book.  St. Pete - Havana race, 1956.

 

 

Would you die for your plants?

 Not likely, but it's a factor.

"You know what people don't understand is wherever you choose to live, that's how you have to live."    

Alphonso Poole, 47, a serious-minded gardener.  On living 700 feet from Tampa's bayside waters, referencing Hurricane Ian. 

 

Our front entrance blocked