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Published: July 22nd 2010
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Oh, Boy, it's a Balloon Parade.
Sunday, June 20. I get up at 4 AM and head bout 30 miles south to Foley for a hot air balloon festival. I'm not sure what to expect, but hope it will be beautiful. I am not disappointed. Balloons of every color float overhead, quiet save for the occasional whoosh as jets of flame heat the air in the balloons giving them lift. I love it when they glide right overhead. It’s as good as a front-row seat at the Macy’s parade. Once the last of over 40 balloons has drifted by, there’s a Frisbee-catching performance by the ‘Disc-Connected K-9s’, a group of very talented former strays who’ve been taken in by what must be two of the kindest dog-lovers in the world, a husband and wife team whose whole lives seem to be caught up in rescuing abused and homeless animals, training them, and then showcasing the dogs talents around the country (http://k9frisbee.com/new/index.php). Once they’ve finished jumping and twirling, I hop in the car and head south.
I take a quick one-mile hike around the Bon Secour National Wildlife Refuge on the gulf then head for the Fort Morgan Peninsula. I leave my car
first in line for the next ferry and walk to Fort Morgan. It is much farther than I think and it is hot and humid, no surprise, so I am drenched and tired by the time I get there. I have to almost run through the fort so that I can get back in time to catch the ferry. But it’s an interesting self-guided tour none-the-less.
I’ve never driven onto a ferry before and I’m the first in line. Hmmm. But as soon as the gates are open and I’m signaled to drive forward I drive onto the boat and take my place as the lead car so that I will be the first one off. Kind of exciting actually. OMG. I can feel the motion of the water under the boat. Seems funny to be in the car on a boat in the water. Once underway I hop out of the car and weave between cars to stand by the rail and watch the 160-acre Dauphin Island materialize. I doubt if the irony is lost on any of us, certainly it’s not lost on me, as we drive by oil rigs quietly sucking oil from the ocean floor. At
least it isn’t pouring into the ocean that I can see. The skies are clear, the sun is brilliant, the sea is sparkling, and it’s a beautiful ride. The ferry pulls up to a small concrete abutment which looks to me no more than a couple feet thick, plops its gangplank down, and I drive off toward the Estuarium, an aquarium/museum featuring the ecosystems of Alabama. I spend several hours checking out 27 small aquariums and learning about the state’s estuaries before heading toward the bridge that connects the island with the mainland. Once over the bridge I spot miles of orange oil-booms snaking their way along the coast. Yet another reminder of the ongoing oil-spill tragedy in the gulf. It’s a beautiful drive back to the motel, and I’m ‘home’ in time for dinner and a visit from my Gulf Shores’ friends, Brittny and Jackie, who stop by to say goodbye.
One Final Hit in the Wallet.
Monday, June 21. I meet the carpet installers at my house early and hang around while they tear out the incredibly smoky carpet and padding. We sprinkle baking soda on the concrete floor and I cross my fingers as the installers begin to
unroll and cut and place and tack. They are done by mid afternoon. It looks beautiful and the house seems to smell a little better as I arrange for a housekeeper to stop by the next day and vacuum and rewash the floors. I leave her a check on the counter and then sit outside the house for a long time. I’ve invested so much in this beautiful home both financially and emotionally I find it difficult to leave. But finally I drive back to the motel to pack knowing I’ll probably never come back to Mobile again.
Luggage Folly Book Ends Trip.
Tuesday, June 22. Check out of motel, turn in rental car, check in for flight, and . . . wait. The flight is postponed which means I won’t make my connecting flight in Nashville. Delta switches me to another flight, this time to Atlanta and I . . . wait. Now it’s postponed. Which gives me the opportunity to once again run thru the Atlanta airport, catching my flight home with only minutes to spare. And once again, my luggage will make it home long after I do. My bed feels so good. Isn’t that one of the
best things about coming home?
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kenneth
non-member comment
Yes it is Susan! Also your phots and stories are wonderful :)