A Simple Flock of Pelicans

I'm doing everything and anything I can do today to avoid cleaning gutters and painting soffit. It's one of the final steps to painting my little bungalow. I'm even considering weeding the back area of my lot rather than get out there today with a paintbrush and a gallon of Kilz.

I'm bone-tired of painting. Literally. My bungalow has been stuccoed, which means twice as much arm-wrassling with a roller brush, and I have gotten most of it all painted, except the back deck area, which requires an entirely different color of paint and a lot of prep work, like moving an air conditioner, removing a cemented-in doggie door and ripping down countless telephone and cable wires no longer needed in our glorious age of internet and cell phones. This area will have to wait until I come back off a gloriously exciting vacation to Seattle and Portland, somewhere I have never been and am dying to visit. I'm very proud that I have single-handedly tackled this massive feat, with the exception of the "tippy-tops," which my sister graciously offered to do, because I have a love-hate relationship with heights above my own 5'4" of body length. Not to mention ladders and I have never gotten along (you'd think something with four feet would be more steady).

The weeding chore is in dire need. Florida is synonymous with things growing from every available inch of dirt, sand or wet cardboard. It's lovely for year-round floral charm, but it's also got a dark side, that being ants of all shapes and sizes, little bitey gnats, mosquitoes that live in any random drop of moisture, spiders that literally appear out of thin air and, and let me put the proper emphasis on this: poison sumac. I am a magnet for poison sumac.

I seem to have run across one of these nasty little devil-plants somewhere along the back fence, which is where said weeding needs to be done. So, I'll throw on a long-sleeve shirt, gloves, jeans and sneakers and go out into the 90-degree heat and weed rather than deal with another date with a paintbrush right now. Now THAT is avoidance.

So, I decided to update the blog before I ventured out there into the evils of the back area, and as I was preparing to write, a flock of pelicans flew over the house, so low I could practically count their wing feathers. Just a simple flock of nine pelicans, and there it was.

Then it just dawned on me, yet again, how grateful I am to have this house and property, and such a short walk to the beach that it's a sin not to go every day. It's quiet in the mornings, and you hear so many birds and the silky salt breezes are cool and welcoming. This house is my anchor, my grounding rod, my secure harbor against the storms. She will keep me safe until the end of days if I just take care of her and nurture her boo-boos and fix her broken bits. You know, paint her a happy color and re-stucco all her missing pieces, weed her gardens and walking paths, fix her plumbing and rewire her electrical and let her sing with wild abandon. I mean, faced with that, what's a few bug bites and rashes?