Cutting the Umbilical Cord

Bald eagles nest in Honeymoon Island State Park, Dunedin, Fl.

Our traditional way of leaving on a voyage – whether by boat or by land – is to unhook from our safe harbor, rolling up the umbilical cords that tie us to the land, and then we move away just a few miles. It has always been thus. When we left our RV resort in Palmetto, we did the same.
We crossed the Skyway Bridge, over Tampa Bay, on a glorious day and spent the afternoon and evening with old cruising friends in Seminole, Florida, just 20 miles away.
There is something relaxing about heading out without making a giant leap that first day. So we lingered with Tom and Tracy and spent the night parked in their driveway. Then we headed north another 20 miles to the town of Dunedin, Gaelic for “Edinburgh,” where we have taken up residence for a week.
This provides a comforting decompression period before we set off on the long haul to the west and north.
I have begun reading Hemingway once again...something I haven't done in 35 years. Oh, what a wordsmith. Spare language. No fancy, flowery phrases. I was so enthralled with one little piece that I offer it up to you. Here, he changes his staccato style as he describes a bullfight. See if you enjoy the flavor and the richness:

“The first matador got the horn through his sword hand and the crowd hooted him. The second matador slipped and the bull caught him through the belly and he hung onto the horn with one hand and held the other tight against the place, and the bull rammed him against the wall and the horn came out, and he lay in the sand, and when he got up like crazy drunk and tried to slug the men carrying him away and yelled for his sword but he fainted. The kid came out and had to kill five bulls because you can't have more than three matadors, and the last bull he was so tired he couldn't get the sword in. He couldn't hardly lift his arm. He tried five times and the crowd was quiet because it was a good bull and it looked like him or the bull and then he finally made it. He sat down in the sand and puked and they held a cape over him while the crowd hollered and threw things down into the bull ring.”

Anyway, Dunedin is a nice little town on the Gulf of Mexico, north of St. Petersburg. We're here because we received a certificate for a bargain rate for a week at the resort we are in. We met one of the neighbors this afternoon and they were bemoaning the fact the the rate this year is 25 percent higher than it was last year. When I told them we were staying the week for $99, they couldn't believe it. Their rate is $50 a night.
We will visit the Greeks in Tarpon Springs (8 miles north of here) and will drive out to Honeymoon Isle State Park, as well as enjoy the enormous swimming pool in our park. Jo also plans to sit in on a knitting group and I'll attend a wood carving club on Tuesday since I found this to be a wonderfully portable hobby. I bought some cypress knees (little knobs of wood) via the Internet and I've been carving them into strange little men.