Sitting lakeside in Winter Garden, enjoying the view of Lake Apopka. This once polluted, now recovering, waterway always offers serenity. And a WiFi connection apparently, which may prove distracting.
Today I came to shrug off my housebound habits and get some writing done. There is a chill in the air, a grey sky day. Perfect weather for me to begin the new Gothic Revival Romance piece I have been mulling over. The soft click of crow's feet on the tin roof over my head are no dissuasion. Then it begins: a misting rain. The far away shorelines of Mount Dora and Tangerine vanish in the soft wash of water from the sky. Goose pimples burst forth on my arms as the temperature drops about fifteen degrees in as many seconds. I spy a low-riding motorboat plowing across the water towards the boat ramp, a fisherman abandoning his quest for the day.
The lake is a slate expanse of ripples stretching as far as the eye can see. Only in the boat basin is the water calm. The crows and their avian compatriots take flight, departing this place for drier ground. But, there, a kestrel hovers in the stiffening breeze. Just hovers, flapping his wings now and again but holding his place in the sky. Static. What is he looking at? He dives! Nope... false alarm. I think he toys with me, this dull, earthbound creature.
The wind grows, it gets colder. I must move further under cover or risk getting wet. Didn't bring a jacket. I do love a storm. I hope that darn lightning warning buzzer, the one they use to make people get away from the nearby town pool, doesn't go off and scare the shit out of me. Despite the wind driven cold, I think I could stay here forever. It is nearly silent, the only sounds the falling rain and rushing air, the flapping of a nearby flag, the rustling of the palm fronds. Calm and peaceful in my head at last.