Venice, Florida

There have been months when "My Town" has been Nerja on the Costa del Sol in Spain, or Rabat, Morocco or San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. I've settled for weeks at a time in many towns across the world but I kiss the hibiscus in my garden, and smell the gardenias every time I set my bags at the door of my little cottage in Venice, Florida--my casita. Scrub jays, cardinals, doves, woodpeckers, and butterflies sing and flutter a greeting. The palm trees sway their welcome and the mini-jungle rustles with rabbits, tortoises, squirrels and armadillos. Lizards scamper up the courtyard walls. I wonder if the jasmine would have covered the trellis and the roses grown so tall had I sat and watched them.

I walk into my living room and I find the backyard jungle growing into my sanctum. Mother Nature awaits a snip here and there but that’s what I get for encouraging it. Ceiling fans and Gulf breezes make their way through my arched windows and French doors—my only air conditioning. I wonder why I ever left home, although it won’t be long before Costa Rica or Belize will beckon and I won’t be able to resist the call to adventure.

My “town” consists of this place I call “home,” as well as the pristine beach that the ferry takes me to, and the quiet streets where joggers are announced by the barking of Jazz, my poodle. The shopping centers on the main road, a mile from here, seem light years away. The traffic frustrates, but the proximity is a blessing when my shoes wear out, or I’m hungry or the bougainvillea needs fertilizer.

My neighbors respect my privacy while friendly enough to drop by without calling. I may have to vacuum the sand my grandchildren drag in, but I’ll never use a snow shovel again. I’ll be happy if I never see another beautiful snowflake!

Liz L

Submitted: Thursday 1st July 2004, 11:14 AM

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