It’s time. 21F, it’s definitely time.
Our buddies John and Lori left today to find free camping in Florida. Good luck with that.
We’re aiming at next Thursday and doing a buster 200-mile slog to Little Ocmulgee SP in south-central Georgia, if weather permits. It’ll probably take us eight hours. We’ve been biding our time; there’s no one here at the Grove but a few residents and it’s been a while that it didn’t hit 28F at night, but the propane’s holding out and there’s no point to rushing to somewhere we can’t be naked at anyway, so we sit.
Miss Lueffie’s pretty well packed and ready to go. Cooking gear, a few woolies and winterizing and we’re outta here. A snow-capped Mount Yonah isn’t a great thrill.
This reads like a downer, but it really isn’t. Cold, snow and ice isn’t really a problem for me (don’t tell Mom) but we really need to go back to Florida to see some old friends and to get some things out of storage such as my BGE and Mom’s pornographic sculptures.
So we’ll have to suffer through those torrid temperatures a couple of months. Woe with me. (G)
But we’ve discovered something here at the Grove. We’re a family, grown out of the same holler so to speak, but a family nonetheless. We will look out for each other from the owner to the lowliest renter; we may bitch and complain but we’ll solidify very quickly. In hard times we fucking make it work.