Yonder Down South

After Mike’s Farm we kept our southern track, driving almost 400 miles to a place called Four Arches Farm in Georgia, near Savannah.

This farm is much different than Mike’s Farm which, though lovely, is large with lots of employees. Four Arches Farm is basically a couple’s home, and we parked under a Spanish Moss laden tree in their front yard. The husband is a professional wood worker. He has a small shop on property, and he and Milton found lots to talk about. (I loved the smell in the shop!)

The wife, Pat, was just finishing up a natural indigo dyeing class. She is warm and inviting. We walked with them to their barn and met their chickens, sheep, llamas and their many cats. We also came away with some beautiful, hand made wooden treasures.

The next day, Nov. 15, Sunday, we got off early for one of our longer days; 450 miles. (It’s a long drive down to the Florida Keys y’all!)

We pulled into our next Harvest Host stop, Bedner’s Farm Fresh Market—which is like a smaller, even cooler Trader Joes—just in time to buy stuff for Milton to make a gourmet dinner in our little home. We parked behind the store right by the farm where rows upon rows of strawberries, squash, corn, peppers and tomatoes were cultivated right out of the sandy soil.

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Finally, Monday, we made it to Key Largo and our campground. We had big plans for our 3 and a half days here: scuba diving, deep sea fishing for Milton, kayaking, a luxurious spa day for me. That first afternoon I took my folding chair close to the water with my book…and mostly just sat still and watched the water lap up through the mangrove tree roots. We saw two big lizards jump out of those trees into the water, and one skitter across the top. I also got bit by little tiny black things—so little—how could they even bite me? I am still scratching at those bites 3 days later!

Since we haven’t scuba dived for many years, we had to have a refresher course. So, the next morning our alarm went off at 5, yes, 5 AM so that we could be at the dive shop at 7. I was nervous, a little scared I guess.

Our instructor, a young 20-year-old named Jen, is deaf and doesn’t speak. She used a white board to communicate in the shop, and then hand motions when we headed out to the pool.

She was great, and I was able to relax. After the morning session in the pool we rode our bikes back to the trailer for lunch and a rest before heading to the dock for our afternoon dives in the ocean.

Sometimes the hardest part of scuba diving is putting on the wet suit! Think rubbery tights. Every time I looked down to inch more of the suit up my leg, nausea knocked on the door. I would look up, focus on the horizon and it would go away. It took a while to get suited up. Then you have to sit down to put on your BC (Buoyancy Compensator) vest. With the air tank on back, it weighs 75-80 pounds. Make sure to put your flippers on first! One of the crew helped me stand up and, it being so choppy out, made sure I got aft safely. I held on to the rail, hand on mask and regulator (my air supply) and took one big step (why is this part still a little scary for me?) and in I went.

Something was off with my mask and it immediately filled with water. To empty your mask, you press along the top of it, take a breath, and blow the air out of your nose. It wasn’t working. My eyes stung with the salty water, and I got disoriented. Jen helped me readjust the mask, but I had to constantly clear it, and always had water in the right side so much of the time I swam with that eye closed. It wasn’t great fun for me—but I was excited to sort of see a large, green eel waving his was across the bottom.

Jen got me a different mask for our second dive and it worked much better. I could relax and relish the electric blues, striped yellows, reds and rainbows in the fish we saw. We also spied several lobsters hiding in the crevices of the reef, swishing their long, spiny antennas at us in warning.

By the end of our second dive the water had gotten much choppier. As I was climbing up the ladder, the boat dipped and the metal ladder swung, hitting my knees and throwing me back into the water. It hurt, and again, I felt disoriented, but Jen was right there, making sure I was ok and guiding me back to the boat.

The wind kept picking up. Milton’s fishing trip was cancelled. No hope of kayaking. It would be dishonest to pretend that we aren’t disappointed. It is important to share the un-fun parts too.

One of my take-a-ways from my slow read through the prophets is that God often spoke to them through the every day stuff they saw. You know what God spoke to me? When I am constantly looking down at my phone and reading all the angsty things on social media I get anxious and angry. I need to and want to know what’s going on in our country and our world so that I can pray and do my part. Gotta look down and inch up that wet suit a little at a time. But mostly I need to keep my eyes on the horizon. My horizon is this day that I am living and the people I am living it with and the center of it all, Christ.

That’s it for now! Eyes on the horizon!

#harvestshosts