Who knew returning north would result in a slower pace. Never mind those tropes about leisurely southern life; now that we’re home, I’ve become a master at frittering away entire mornings. This is partially because it just looks quieter. Here, there aren’t those waves of seniors out on the sidewalks or in the bike lanes peddling away, or on the tennis courts, or marching up and down on the beaches. Of course, the weather in Florida, without the daily intermittent showers and brisk low-60s days of Massachusetts, is more conducive to outdoor living. But the biggest factor is the cumulative effect of sheer numbers. I think the more people there are strolling or biking, the more others are drawn in to join the parade, creating (if you’ll excuse the expression) a snowball effect.
Of course, the outdoors is Florida’s cash cow, so the counties provide everything they can think of to get you out to enjoy it. Long bike trails, generous sidewalks, free beaches, tennis/pickleball courts at every park.
Meanwhile, after a three-day road trip up through the Shenandoah – beautiful, by the way – we’re settling in.
And Mamie’s reacquainting herself with soft grass again, and the May “snow” of fallen tree blossoms.