Lost Under The Spanish Moss

Driving by the light of the super full moon was quite beautiful. I felt so energized. It was my first time driving at night in the wheel estate for more than a few miles. It was a spur of the moment plan.  


Actually there was no plan involved. Sometimes life just unfolds. 


It was rather fun to spend the night a the truck stop in Brunswick, Georgia. That was a first for me. The next day I actually tried to formulate a plan. More or less.


I drove 70 miles, to another truck stop, to scout it out, then I was going to go check out a dog park then return to the truck stop for the night. But alas, when I got there, it wasn't a truck stop at all, just a fuel station by the same name, with "No Parking" signs posted every ten feet. 

So I decided to go check out the dog park. That took me into the historic part of Savannah. The roads are narrow, the trees are magnificent old  oaks, draped  with copious amounts of Spanish moss. I kept saying little prayers, hoping that UPS trucks had been there before me to forge the way. 

Savannah, Georgia's streets provide a shady canopy, almost like entering a Spanish Moss tunnel. 

I am mindful not to hit low tree branches. That happened to me the second time I drove my motorhome, after purchase. *TWACK*.  I hit a low tree branch.  


Today I crept along these narrow streets, often with cars parked on both sides, narrowly missing smacking my rear view mirrors against theirs. No one seemed stressed out behind me, at my sedate speed. I am sure they've seen it before. 


My directions to the dog park were vague. I had to suddenly account for one-way streets, so I ended up lost again.


Found the park, but it was "Members Only".  While I would love to donate to their park, I can't really afford to buy a membership for something I would use once, at this point and time in my ridiculously tiny budget. Sadly, on a beautiful summer Saturday,  in the afternoon, only 4 humans and their dogs were at the park. That made me wonder if the membership was a bit pricey or what.  

We skipped the park, in favor of getting lost once again in Savannah. Eventually, through trial and error,  we found ourselves at Camping World.  They had a big sign on the door that pets were welcome inside the store.  My pooch was thrilled to go inside and shiver with the air conditioning. Everyone fussed over him. He did the orphan thing of acting like I never paid him any attention while he showered love and affection on any willing person or puppy, as there were 3 other dogs inside. Meanwhile,  I perused the aisles and drooled over everything on my Wish List, then politely asked them if I could spend the night in their parking lot. They said yes!  Finally I narrowed it down to a few needed parts for the wheel estate and  spent a whopping $8 on necessities. 


My Wish List items will just have to wait. Though I fell seriously  in love with this outdoor folding rocking chair. They had to pry me out of it, at closing time. I so wanted to buy it and call it my own.  I could see myself outside my motorhome at the campground, rocking away quite contentedly.  Even now, I am dreaming of rocking.  I love rocking chairs. 


Back in the dark ages, (circa early 1980's) when I owned a nice old home, I had a rocking chair in my living room, dining room, bedroom, guest room, den and front porch. All were bought used, except one. 


Sadly, in the Caribbean I never had a rocking chair the past two decades. My sailboat was my rocking chair! 


Even when I moved ashore on a tiny island, they didn't sell them there for some strange reason, that I can't figure out. Shipping one in was way too pricey. So it's been *ahem* a few decades since I had the luxury of owning a used or new rocking chair. 


On my wish list,  the outdoor folding rocking chair is way up near the top, while a TV is way down at the bottom. I would rather rock in the great outdoors, than to have the luxury of watching a TV. 


Sometimes simple pleasures are the best.  I'll keep dreaming about the pleasant afternoon I rocked away in that folding rocking chair. 

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