Last week, Sunday morning, Becky and I set out for south Florida.
Becky is my rich produce-farming sister. Just the night before she had thrown a big crazy party for her rich farming friends.
The goal: find Ed Eisele and buy a skid-steer forklift. Pictured below, you can see the skid-steer in action. This machine will hopefully one day come in handy around our little bee farm.
Ed Eisele is a commercial beekeeper.
He has a few hives.
And some nice toys.
Ed winters his hives in south Florida and summers them in Michigan. In between, he chases the big bucks in the California almonds.
This load was the last one of 15 heading west. All netted up and ready to ship out by 9 pm.
The next morning I got my "new" skid-steer.
|Don't worry, Ed.|
We got this.
But first, some fishing. It was south Florida after all.
Becky's hangover had worn off by Tuesday.
We really did pretty well. About twelve miles off the coast of Naples; constant fish coming in. Mostly red snapper and Atlantic white grunt. Mostly small... but good eatin'!
On the way out we watched the private jets fly into town.
On the way in we marveled at the second homes and yachts.
Naples is such a playground.
A place vegetable farmers go to retire.
|Becky's future boat|
Up the coast to Ft. Myers Beach. The weather was beautiful-- 75 degrees and sunny.
Time to find a spot for some free camping.
Around midnight we had one small brush with the Ft. Myers police, but it was nothing a wink and a bribe couldn't handle.
It's hard to hide with this outfit!
Finally, some shelling.
My mother told us that Sanibel Island was a famous spot for finding cool shells. It's also another spot where the wealthy hang out. Becky just loved it.
We spent the morning and it didn't disappoint.
A run up the beach was full of surprises.
In many places someone got creative.
It was a slow trip home but we made it by Friday, no worse for the wear.
Now our kids can also be creative.
These beautiful treasures have made their way to the couch cushions, the porch cupboards, the floor of the car and other spots of oblivion...fated to soon be crumbles and dust in a drier, less grand oblivion whence they came.