Florida in March – Spring's Eternal Promise - And Outreach

We're all reaching out toward each other. 

Sometimes you just have to have faith and jump in. That was the case when we headed out on the first leg of our adventure.  Our destination was the Coldwater Creek Horse Camp in the Blackwater River State Forest in Florida. Having already had a warm shot with the fine folks at Fiddlers Green, down southeast of Ocala in January, we were ready for another dose of cozy. Our calls to the reservations machine went unanswered so we just loaded up a lot of the things, (we forgot a lot too),  we had planned to carry with us on this big looping adventure and headed south. We learned a long time ago that there are a couple of mindsets required or you'll never get to ride.  One is to always bet against the weatherman and the second is to always assume everything will be OK.  A quick stop at the Wal-Mart parking lot in Alabaster, AL for some of son-in-law Tony's delicious ribs and were back on the road toward the pines and palmettos of the panhandle.

We were greeted by our gracious camp hosts, who come from Folkston, GA, the town where we tied our nuptials knot, so many years ago. He asked if we had reservations. I said, “Yeah, some, but we decided to stay here anyway”. (I know it's an old Bob Hope joke, but you have to dust them off and use them again when the time seems appropriate.) I explained that we had called but got no return call. He invited us on in, telling us there was a big ride coming in on Wednesday that had the entire camp reserved, but they'd figure something out. Like so many people we were to find on this journey, they found a way to accommodate us and make us feel welcome.

Riding in Florida has a great element of sameness about it, sandy footing with very few elevation changes, and if you don't like pines and palmettos, don't come here.  But every day brings newness too, with a differnt flower in bloom, the sky from a diffferent angle, or just the way a rabbit tears off through the thicket.  With Helen's keen eye and photography skill, she captures a lot of those things for us.  We decided to ride out on the yellow trail, since we were riding yellow horses.  Most of our decisions are made like this.  About halfway out on the loop, we met a couple of fellers from Montgomery.  After a nice chat with them we went on and completed our loop and made a run to the Peanut Growers' Co-Op in Jay, the location of feed stores being a high priority item everywhere we stop.
When we got back to camp neighbors had started arriving.  After making a little small talk about horses, camping and little bitty dogs, the conversation came around to the most important question, "Where y'all from?"  Or, since the Tennessee tag on the trailer was rather obvious, "What part of Tennnessee are y'all from?"  Now, I had learned from my time in the Air Force, that you have to localize when you tell people where you're from, starting with a place most people have heard of.  So I started with, "Just west of Nashville".  That drew the interest of the lady asking the question. 
"Really, what town?"
"Fairview."
"You're kidding!  My family originally came from Fairview!"
Her jaw dropped even further when I asked, "Sullivan, Mangrum, Lampley or Jones?"
"Mangrum!" 
Yep, we're all reaching out toward each other, whether it be in the kinds of horses we ride, the kind of riding we like, who our family is, or where we go to church.  We look for things that bond us and we find them.  Some people look for things that divide us, but I don't like that much. 


Jerry once again, for Helen.  More to come....