Jacksonville, Florida

Recently I visited Jacksonville, Florida. It was wonderful to be under sunny skies and in warm weather for a few days, and even better to be with my beloved granddaughter, Lauren, who I haven’t seen in three and a half years. We visited a different corner of Jacksonville, FL every day. The day I arrived, we went to Jacksonville Beach to fulfill my longing to walk in the ocean, after which we ate sushi on a rooftop patio as twilight dimmed to darkness.

The next day we went to St. Augustine, the oldest city in the United States. It was established on August 28, 1565 in  an area inhabited by the native Timucua people. Like Ponce de Leon, who claimed the land for Spain in 1513, I did not find the Fountain of Youth, but over the years I’ve decided that I’d rather swim in the Ocean of Agelessness than dip in the Pool of Transient Youth.

A big attraction in St. Augustine is the fort, Castillo de San Marcos National Monument. It’s part of the National Park system and because of the government shutdown, entry was closed. However, we did get to walk the grounds. The fort was built to protect the city and Florida’s trade routes from invaders. Cannons still line the walls facing the sea.

A structure that looks like a pizza oven caught my attention. It seems it is a furnace in which cannonballs were heated to fifteen hundred degrees, loaded into the cannons, and shot at the ships of would be assailants. The red hot cannonballs, called hotshots, would set the ships afire on impact. In the explanation of how the furnace and heated cannonballs worked was a diagram of a worker carrying the cannonball with tongs from the furnace to the cannon. I wonder how many of those  cannonballs were dropped.

Certain people are sometimes referred to as “hotshots.” Because I have known a few in my life, that word has been forever metamorphosed in my imagination.

Hot shot furnace at Castillo de San Marcos National Monument. Photo public domain.

We ambled around the city, looking at the charming homes in the residential area. Gardens were in bloom and the fragrance of Angel Trumpet flowers permeated the air. I am fascinated with Spanish Moss.

We came upon The Warden Winter Home. It is a Moorish Revival style castle built in 1887 by William Warden who was a partner in the Standard Oil Company with John D. Rockefeller and Henry Flagler. It was purchased in 1941 by Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings, author of The Yearling, and her husband, Norman Baskin. They remodeled it as the Castle Warden Hotel and it was frequented by notable writers of the time. In 1950 the hotel became the first House of Oddities when Robert S. Ripley bought it to house his collection of…oddities. It has come to be known as Ripley’s Believe It or Not Museum.

Angel’s Trumpet Spanish Moss draped tree Guardian at the Gate~Halt all Evil Ripley’s Believe it or Not

I’d been longing to spend time on a beach and feel the energy of the ocean. My wish came true the day we spent at Ameila Island. The sun was warm, the sand was white and powdery, and the ocean was the perfect temperature. Amelia Island is known as a place to find shark teeth. Lauren and I sifted through ocean residue along the surf line filled with shells of all shapes, sizes, and colors, looking for shark teeth. We found several specimens but weren’t sure if they were pieces of shell or shark teeth. What do you think?

Lauren’s boyfriend, Tim, joined us. He’s a Twenty-first Century Renaissance Man. He plays guitar, bass, drums and violin, and he’s an artist. He has a degree in biology and taught himself coding and creates software. They met when they were in a rock band. Tim played bass, Lauren was the singer. Tim recently published a record album Complex. The name of his band is The Model. Lauren does vocals. You can hear it on YouTube or Spotify.  

I’m happy they found each other.

On the way home we stopped at a roadside fruit stand that also featured an alligator farm. The display that faces the road exhibited the most beautiful pink grapefruit I’ve ever seen; big, golden globes tinged with rose, like a sunset. I love pink grapefruit and had to have some. In recent years I’ve been disappointed with the grapefruit available in grocery stores. They are small and expensive. Here, they are beautiful and, coming from an area where they are grown, they had to be reasonably priced. Right?

When we got out of the car, Lauren noticed that the grapefruit on display were fake, made of concrete or some other hard substance. The real ones were similar to the ones I find at home and just as expensive. I did buy a few to enjoy and share with Lauren and Tim.

One of the young men who worked in the store asked Lauren if she wanted to see the Alligator Farm. The farm turns out to be a tank in a corner of the store containing two baby alligators. The large one, seen here ignored us, but his smaller roommate (not shown) was lively. He responded to taps on the aquarium by the young man by jumping to the top of the tank.

Jacksonville is the tenth most populous city in the U. S. with 1.1 million people, approximately the same population as the entire state of Montana. The largest employer is the Naval Air Station. It’s the birthplace of the Blue Angels and hosts their air shows. We spent time in the Riverside and Avondale areas along the St. John’s River and visited the Riverside Arts Market where they sell handcrafted jewelry, pottery, candles, art, and home baked goods. There are food trucks representing cuisines of the diverse populace.

Lauren and I were enjoying lunch on a park bench beside the river when the sky split open with a shrieking roar. I nearly jumped onto Lauren’s lap. “Oh, it’s just the Blue Angels taking off,” Lauren said. I looked up and saw a blue blur disappear into the heavens. Then another Blue Angel came screaming out of nowhere. This time I was startled rather than terrified and watched it make its vertical ascent. Once I calmed down, I was sorry that I hadn’t captured a photo of one of them in flight. This photo of a Blue Angel Boeing F/A-18 Super Hornet on display outside the naval station will have to do.

The Riverside-Avondale area is a lovely, walkable residential area with a mix of apartment buildings and older homes, all of interesting architecture from Art Deco to Victorian, Craftsman bungalows, Colonial Revival, Tudor, Italianate, and Spanish. Five Points is a cluster of unique shops, eateries and gastropubs, and an art house movie theater.

We spent an afternoon at the Cummer Museum which has an Italian and an English Garden. Works of Andrew Wyeth are currently exhibited.

Riverside Park and WWI Memorial

“Spiritualized Life” Winged figure of youth rising triumphant from the swirl of war’s chaos which engulfs humanity and faces the future courageously.” May that future be war free.

The best part of the trip was spending time with Lauren. I have many precious memories of time spent with her as a baby and a little girl. She was bright and eager to learn. I taught her how to write the alphabet and I read many books to her. When I picked her up from pre-school and asked how her day was, she’d say, “I love everybody and everybody loves me.” I went to all the concerts and plays she was in throughout elementary and high school to hear her sing. Even in choir, I heard her sweet, clear voice above all the others. She’s carried her pre-school positive attitude with her throughout her young life and now she is a successful business woman with two Dutch Bros stands and a third coming next year.

We drove around in her Volkswagen convertible with the top down and had wonderful conversations about what we believe in and what we look forward to on our journeys through life. Although we are different in temperament, I delighted in the ways we are the same. My first car was a Volkswagen convertible as is hers. Mine was yellow, hers is black. We love to cook and spent one evening cooking an Italian dinner. It was a fun. We are both self-sufficient and independent. Our paths are different and our homes are twenty-five hundred miles apart, but we are deeply connected not only by the bond of family, but also by mutual respect of who we are as women.