Eta and the Frogs

 Dateline: Golden Beach, Florida

  A lot of excitement the past few days as the perverse Tropical Storm/occasional Hurricane Eta behaved like a squirrel crossing the road, constantly turning circles and changing its mind about which way to go. So Sunday and Monday were windy and rainy, Tuesday a little better and Wednesday (yesterday) a windy deluge. We brought the garden furniture and hanging baskets in and looped over the curtains in the lanai (the netted cage at the back that Florida houses have, presumably to keep the mosquitoes out). 

Of course the photo, taken through the netting, doesn't show anything much - in reality the branches were swaying around like seaweed under water and the rain was bucketing down. One neighbour's front garden was a pond.

We are tropical storm newbies - this is the worst weather we've been though in Florida but our neighbours said it was nothing as bad as Irma in 2017.  Though phones and hubby's marine radio were constantly buzzing and elongated high pitched beeping with tornado and flood warnings and the lights ominously flickered on and off and on again interrupting the dishwasher and hubby's Zoom meeting. "Please let me back in!", I heard him begging plaintively.

  The strangest thing happened when it grew dark. Hubby went to take a look outside and rushed back in saying, "It sounds as though there's some bird in distress." An eery screeching emanated from somewhere underground, getting louder and louder and seemed to be echoed by a similar loud screeching down the street. It was loudest at the drain grill. I thought of those big leggy birds that abound in Florida - perhaps that's the sound they made if they were trapped and struggling, swept into a drain pipe by the storm and powerless to escape. I called my neighbour who said she wasn't about to risk her life for an animal though she might for a human. Then she listened for a bit and said, "It's probably frogs". 

  "Frogs! So loud? Surely not. We wondered if we should call the RSPCA - or whatever they have here."

  "I'm sure it's frogs. They're probably having a party. I know you're a very caring person but I don't think you need worry". 

   The sounds went on all evening and into the night, multiplying until there was practically a symphony. The screeching began to sound more like croaking. I realised my neighbour was probably right. Well certainly right. Brekekekex Ko-ax Ko-ax. Appropriate for a Greek-named storm.

  In the morning, the frogs were silent, probably badly hung over. The water had receded, though in some parts of our neighbourhood, near inlets and such, the water mark had clearly reached half way up their drives. A wet sun emerged and the sky was blue. We went for our morning power walk, passing friends with their dogs, "Got off lightly there, didn't we!"  

Are We Done? Part 2

 In 2016 I was, being a woman, mildly embarrassed to hear Hillary Clinton bang on about how proud she was that the Democrats had selected a woman as their candidate. Now there's a big song-and-dance about the first woman vice-President. (men of course didn't get a look-in in this case). 

I'd like to remind my American friends that it's 2020 not 1920. Compatriots of Indira Gandhi, Margaret Thatcher, Theresa May, Angela Merkel, Golda Meir, Jacinta Ardern, Marys Robinson and McAleese,  Sirimavo Bandaranaike, Vigdis Finnbogadottir, Gro Harlem Brundtland, Benazir Bhutto, Kazimira Prunskiene, Edith Cresson, Violeta Chamorro, Tansu Ciller, Hanna Suchocka, Gloria Arroyo, Megawati Sukarnoputri, Luisa Diogo, Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, Michele Bachelet, Cristina Kirchner, Yulia Timoshenko, Dalia Grybauskaite, Laura Chinchilla, Dilma Roussef, Julia Gillard, Yingluck Shinawatra, Alenka Bratusek, Marie-Louise Coleiro Preca, Aung Sang Suu Kyi, Bidhya Devi Bandari, Sheikh Hasina and many more like them* might be forgiven for saying, "So what?"

*Question: Were all these vastly different female leaders in so many vastly different countries mostly chosen because they were women or because they'd get the job done? Tough one that....

Are We Done?

 The blog, as a foreigner, doesn't wish to take sides in the subtle complexities of American politics. It would like, though, to offer a few observations.

"I'll be very happy when we don't see those any more!" Quote, pre-election, from a Florida neighbour  pointing to a front garden election sign.

"Republicans for Biden".  Election sign around the corner from us.

"I just wish I didn't have to wake up every morning terrified about what he's going to tweet today," Quote, pre-election, from another Florida neighbour.

"Of course  I hope Trump will win again and of course he will win again but I really worry about election fraud," Quote, pre-election,  from a friend up in rural western New York.

"We're desperately praying",  Quote, post-election,  from an anxious pro-life friend in the mid-west. 

I can't help pointing out without prejudice that, despite shooting himself in the foot at every opportunity, despite loud and near universal loathing, from day one of his presidency, from the mainstream media, the political and cultural establishment, Silicon Valley, academia, Hollywood,  big business, big cities, celebrities and Covid 19, the Donald still managed to up his vote, Notably from non-white voters. And he almost won.  And despite all of the above, the Republicans may still keep the Senate and have increased their numbers in the House of Representatives. There's a message there somewhere. Future presidential hopefuls had better start looking for it.

And now we can all start worrying about Tropical Storm Eta which, while everyone was distracted, suddenly decided to turn round and head straight for Florida. Wish us luck.

Walking Catfish

 My neighbour shuddered, "We'd had a lot of rain. I opened the garage door and there outside was a walking catfish! Yeugh! It was horrible. And it was.." she paused for effect, "Still alive!"

"A what?"  I gulped, "But we're nowhere near water!" Nearish to the beach perhaps but so far as I know, catfish don't like seawater. I took in the horror story and googled walking catfish. No, it wasn't April Fool's Day. They do exist. 

(Alas this is not my photo.) And they walk, propelling themselves along on their fins but on dry land. Or damp land, usually after it's been pouring with rain. We don't have streams in our street but we do have drainage ditches and they just love those. In all the time we'd been coming here to Florida, I had never seen one. Well just like the Number 9 Bus you don't spot one for ages and then they all come together. A few days ago my neighbour messaged me, "I think you should know that there's a walking catfish in your front garden. Not very big. About 8 inches." Correction, being American,  she actually said, "front yard." I didn't see the message for a couple of hours,  which with hindsight was a good thing. When I finally plucked up the courage to go and investigate, the creature was no longer in our front garden but in the road and also, sadly, had gone to its reward, having evidently been flattened by several cars - no mean feat on our quiet dead-end street.  It looked like the one in the picture only less shiny.  Like a bit of old tyre, actually. I messaged my neighbour thinking to point out it was slightly on her side of the street but then relented in the interests of public spirit and said that, unless she wanted it for supper, I would dispose of it. "Thank you but we have other dinner plans", she replied.

 It appears that the catfish are of Asian origin and therefore considered an invasive species. (Please do not take this the wrong way.) If alive, you're not supposed to transfer them elsewhere, though I believe some people put them in a bucket and take them to the nearest pond. Our nearest pond has several alligators so I'm not sure if that would be helpful. My Indonesian friend assured me they see walking catfish all the time over there and they are delicious to eat. However she added ominously, "My mother would never cook them". 

Hanging on to Hope

 Talking about success stories in the garden, I forgot to mention the beauty berry. 

My neighbour's advice to cut it right back in the spring bore fruit in every sense of the word. The berries are quite magnificent.

Decorative rather than edible but you can't have everything.  Speaking of decorative, hubby called out, "rainbow!" and I dashed out to get a picture. Of course the phone refused to take it until the rainbow  was nearly gone. But you can't have everything.

At a time when Covid 19 is gleefully upping its game, thumbing its nose at the world's prayers and precautions, when  the eerie echo of football without fans looks set for the duration, when the head of the Catholic Church makes remarks akin to the Chief Rabbi musing on the health benefits of bacon butties,  when the height of political debate in the world's superpower consists of two old men hurling insults like drunks in a pub and we're fast losing our grip on which way is up, we have to cling on to some small signs of hope.

Back to the Beach

 Dateline Golden Beach, Florida

It's been a while I know but the journey down was exhausting. We did it in just two days again, minimising hotel stays. It all started out well with the most glorious autumn scenery through Pennsylvania and West Virginia - sadly no time to take photos-  but then things went downhill with torrential rain and crazy drivers. I wonder if collective insanity hasn't gripped Florida-bound motorists even more that usual. 90 - 100 mph, weaving in and out, tailgating etc. We started to wonder if, unbeknownst to us,  Florida had been put under curfew and people were in a mad frenzy to get home before dark. Or something. But we survived and Golden Beach is still Golden Beach.

The garden was another story. If the weeds were bad last year,  they were ten times worse this. Perhaps the result of an exceptionally  hot, rainy summer or perhaps the weeds telling each other that our address was the place to be. Last year there were four or five of the things that looked like anaemic Christmas trees (how can something with a stem that thick grow like that in just four months?) This year there were at least a dozen. The honeysuckle had migrated from the fence and firmly rooted itself half way down the lawn. And everything was covered in a mess of stringy daisy-like vegetation that, when I scooped up armful after armful of it, left me covered in tiny spines so I looked like a hedgehog. And the porterweeds! The porterweeds had excelled themselves, spreading all over the place with their ugly wavy tendrils and complicated horizontal subterranean root systems. I spent a hot, humid morning wrenching most of then out and then saw a come-on email from the local garden centre. They were actually offering porterweeds for $14.99 each! "Fifteen dollars! You threw away all those 15 dollar plants!" groaned hubby. We could have set up a stall by the road, undercut the garden centre. Although I have to say, no one with a modicum of sense plants porterweeds. 

  There was one success story though.. 

A while ago a neighbour donated some giant lilies and this year one of them actually bloomed to welcome us back.

To be continued.

When Bambi Met Charlie

 Allegany State Park is a great place for a long, energetic ramble.

With all kinds of interesting rock formations.

Like something from Middle Earth...

Fallen trees (tons of them - must have had a big storm)

And fungi we didn't realise were edible (they're called chicken of the woods) - we were too busy looking for non-existent chanterelles.

But wait - who's that peeping out from behind a tree?

The white tail deer seemed totally unafraid. Perhaps used to handouts from park visitors.

She (I assume) was definitely very interested in us.  She stayed around for several minutes. And came closer and closer.

But I think what she was really fascinated by was our doughty companion - the celebrity rescue Yorkie,  Charlie,  whom you may have met before, visiting from New York City and who was racing ahead of us most of the way, putting us to shame.

"Whossat? Never seen anything like you before!" 

"Don't know what all the fuss is about."

Now can we get going please.