Myakka and the Peanut Man

I’m a nature girl. It’s my inspiration. It makes me feel alive--youthful and ancient at once--and restores my perception of abundance.

Yesterday Husband swooped me out of the sick ward for a drive through Myakka River State Park. And though I still don’t have a long walk in me yet, the drive through winding roads was a fantastic reviver. It was laced with grandmotherly oaks trying to hold on to their Spanish moss in the wind and busy armadillos loving the harvest of worms from the damp earth courtesy of Friday’s rain. Even a few gators surfaced for photo ops.

Resurrection fern is brown and crinkly in times of drought or little rain, and when the water comes from the sky again, it bounces back to green lushness. I never recall seeing it so pronounced as it was on Saturday. Just look at it.

This 'dillo stopped to take his head out of the ground for a few seconds and seems to be saying, “Damn. It feels good to be alive.”

But you know what I loved almost as much as anything? The peanut man. Still there on the corner of Fruitville and Myakka Road, Peanut Man sits on the side of his pickup on Saturdays. The old dog I used to see with him as a faithful companion had passed on, and a new friend was with him.

I used to drive this road every day on my way to work running programs at a nature center near the state park. I knew I had to move on, but I sure miss the natural environment out there. It felt like a homecoming yesterday. On the way back I carried the refreshed vivid imagery I love, the feeling of wind still on my face, and peanuts on the pallet.