Travelling back from Florida by car has its
advantages. You don’t have to worry
about flight delays or taking your shoes off in Security, or having too many suitcases,
or putting your liquids in those miserable Ziploc bags. No, you just throw
everything in willy-nilly and set off without
a care, save negotiating roads clogged with the hordes trying to head north
in the spring.
And there’s always room to add a few
souvenirs en route. This can sometimes get
a little out of hand. I once brought
hubby back a bag of Florida oranges which were marmalade by the time we reached
western New York.
This
time, sister-in-law and I left with good intentions. Well you know what they say about the road to
hell. We’d packed the car efficiently, we had our picnic cooler – no
American car traveller is ever without one - which is why American
hotels always have those noisy ice machines, inevitably right next door to your
room. We had supplies for the journey
and resolved not to add to the load –
unless it was something we really, really needed. Trouble is, there are plenty of places at
the American roadside that would like nothing better than to tempt you out of
your money - and your common sense.
We were in the middle of Then, further along, in the middle of nowhere, we did a double take. There, by the wayside, were almost lifesize models of a giraffe, a hippo and a gorilla. With a screech of brakes and the familiar, “I gotta see this!”, sister-in-law swerved through the gate.
It was a garden ornaments place.
But this was America and there were acres of them.
Acres of bunnies, acres of puppies,
acres of elephants, Madonnas, angels, dragons, sea captains. Sea captains?
“You bet!” said the man, “People love ‘em in their yards”. I was speechless. Then, to be polite, I asked, “Do you have any birdbaths?”
It was a garden ornaments place.
But this was America and there were acres of them.
Acres of bunnies, acres of puppies,
acres of elephants, Madonnas, angels, dragons, sea captains. Sea captains?
“You bet!” said the man, “People love ‘em in their yards”. I was speechless. Then, to be polite, I asked, “Do you have any birdbaths?”
“Sure do, Ma’am!”
It was
then that I saw it. Not too plain, not
too ornate, entwined with a vine and
butterflies, the most exquisite birdbath.
But here we were still in the South with a full car.
But here we were still in the South with a full car.
“If you
can it get into the car,” I said to the man, “I’ll take it.
“No problem!” He huffed, puffed, pushed, shoved and twisted
himself and the birdbath into unimaginable contortions, then finally wiped his hands, satisfied. The birdbath was squeezed behind the passenger
seat. I had to spend the rest of the
trip sitting bolt upright with my legs bent but hey, what’s a little suffering
for an object of beauty I’d never have got on a plane?
And here it is in the spring snow of western New York.
And here it is in the spring snow of western New York.