I’m about 20 miles as the crow flies into Florida. I’ll spend the next nine days in this general vicinity before returning to the skoolie community for 1-3 weeks. Then it’s two back-to-back skoolie events in Florida spanning another dozen days before getting on the road back to Connecticut to attend an Ostara retreat and then my father’s 91st birthday party. I know, I know … I’m getting way ahead of myself.

Back to today. Actually, last night. It got down to 67 degrees and today it was 78 and more humid the times the sun came out. Tonight it will be 65. Tomorrow it rains, with a high of 69 expected and then the nights fall into the 30s. New England isn’t the only place with crazy weather.

I am staying in a 2.5-acre space with a compound made up of cottage-type houses and RVs in one corner. The host provides water and electricity and can accommodate up five rigs of any size. I just missed him as he went on his own adventure leaving a couple from Alaska to take care of the place.

So tomorrow the plan is to stay put in the rain and read … and open my Book of Shadows and begin to organize what will be its contents. There, I said it. Now I have to keep my word. I wonder how many procrastination techniques I’ll employ first. I’ll tell you now, the day ends not at midnight, but when I fall asleep.

One of the things I noticed from South Carolina south, well, maybe North Carolina, is how big states are down here. Yeah, Maine and New York are big, so perhaps it’s also because of the flatness here, lending itself to the warning, “Objects are closer than they appear.” Just miles and miles of nothing, with an occasional house or farm and a scattering of burnt-down or rusted-out dreams. As I pass them, driving my dream, I send blessing with a grateful heart because but for the pick of the draw, our fates could have been reversed.

The dark is so thick outside, it feels well past midnight although it’s not yet 7:30. I bid you a good night and if desired, so mote it be.