1. 1.
    traveling from place to place, especially working or based in various places for relatively short periods.
    "the peripatetic nature of military life"
    synonyms:nomadic, itinerant, traveling, wandering, roving, roaming, migrant,migratory, unsettled
    "I could never get used to her peripatetic lifestyle"
  2. 2.
  1. 1.
    a person who travels from place to place.
  2. 2.
    an Aristotelian philosopher.

Friday, September 12, 2008

Outer Bands and Inner Peace After the Storm

My daughter wants me to go with her tonight to hear a band play at Bamboo Willie's. It's a popular watering hole on the Pensacola Beach boardwalk, on the Sound side, of course. This picture was taken last week when the water was smooth and easy on the eyes. Today, there are coastal flood warnings and small craft advisories posted for the Gulf Coast. I am not sure I want to cross that bridge to the beach tonight, and I might feel a little strange celebrating while the folks in Texas are preparing for the arrival of Ike. We will follow the forecast closely on the news.

I hope there is no loss of life from this storm, although you can be sure there will be loss of something. If nothing else, wildlife habitats, like the Gulf Islands National Seashore, always suffer encroachment by the rising flood waters. It's bad enough they have had to lose by encroaching development in years past. Things like the boardwalk with all of its enticements have replaced those natural barriers to nature's fury, the sand dunes which used to be there.

This picture of an elephant's ear plant, which I hear is a type of Caladium, makes me think of heeding warnings. I hope the people near the water leave quickly. They do not have much time left to evacuate. I probably should have done some research (click here) before I leaped at the chance to add this plant to my garden. Now I know. These plants can spread farther and wider than I would like them to. I may have to keep them in check by building a barrier. I planted them along with the liriope to prevent erosion in this bed on the north side of the house. This gardener never seems to learn from her mistakes.

Maybe some music will put me in a better frame of mind. I love to sit outside and listen to my windchimes. We bought these in a flea market near Cape Coral, Florida. I lost the card that came with them, but I think they are called Corinthian Bells. The company that makes them probably did not want them to resonate like "sounding brass or a clanging cymbal," and they are crafted so well that they can induce a peaceful feeling when the wind gently moves them.

At this moment a patter of footsteps was heard, and looking up they saw the live phonograph standing before them. It seemed to have passed through many adventures since Ojo and his comrades last saw the machine, for the varnish of its wooden case was all marred and dented and scratched in a way that gave it an aged and disreputable appearance.
"Dear me!" exclaimed Ojo, staring hard. "What has happened to you?"
"Nothing much," replied the phonograph in a sad and depressed voice. "I've had enough things thrown at me, since I left you, to stock a department store and furnish half a dozen bargain-counters."
"Are you so broken up that you can't play?" asked Scraps.
"No; I still am able to grind out delicious music. Just now I've a record on tap that is really superb," said the phonograph, growing more cheerful.
"That is too bad," remarked Ojo. "We've no objection to you as a machine, you know; but as a music-maker we hate you."
"Then why was I ever invented?" demanded the machine, in a tone of indignant protest.
They looked at one another inquiringly, but no one could answer such a puzzling question. Finally the Shaggy Man said:
"I'd like to hear the phonograph play."
Ojo sighed. "We've been very happy since we met you, sir," he said.
"I know. But a little misery, at times, makes one appreciate happiness more. Tell me, Phony, what is this record like, which you say you have on tap?"
"It's a popular song, sir. In all civilized lands the common people have gone wild over it."
"Makes civilized folks wild folks, eh? Then it's dangerous."
"Wild with joy, I mean," explained the phonograph. "Listen. This song will prove a rare treat to you, I know. It made the author rich--for an author..."

--from The Patchwork Girl of Oz by L. Frank Baum--

Click here for an interesting perspective on another Gulf city which is bracing itself for a lot of wind which will not be moving gently. I wish the residents peace after the storm.


  1. If you go to listen to the music and the storm gets bad, will that mean you are stranded because it's dangerous to cross the bridge?

    My father has Colocasia esculenta 'Black Magic' which looks just like yours. It is so exotic we love it in our northern gardens. Of course we have to bring it inside every winter.

  2. Hi, Marnie! I don't think the bridge will be dangerous, but the roads and parking lots on the beach may become flooded. My daughter keeps pooh-poohing my concerns, but I'm all for erring on the side of caution. I'm thinking about hiding her car keys when she comes home from work later this afternoon. Thanks for the info on the proper name. I just found out that the plant can be poisonous if eaten before being cooked. I had no idea it was edible at all. I guess I will have to extra vigilant when Micah is in that flower bed and wash hands carefully if they touch the plant. See the link below for the warning.

  3. W2W: Thank you for your comments today. You come from a beautiful area of the country and you take great photos. I have several passions as you can see from my blog and am glad they are so active during our changing seasons.

  4. Hi, Fishing Guy. Thank you for taking the time to stop by and leave a comment, and such a complimentary one at that. I could use a lot more tutelage on the photography. I am enjoying it, though, with or without any expertise, and that is all that matters to me. I will be back in S. Illinois soon so I will get to photograph some fall scenery. I've not yet used my digital camera for that purpose. Here's hoping for some nice weather in the next few weeks!

  5. I love your elephant ear with what looks to be monkey grass. Hopefully all is well but this storm Ike is looking pretty bad with the storm surge and all.

  6. Thanks, Tina. I planted it with good intentions, but I really don't know that much about tropical plants. Lack of knowledge/wisdom usually spells disaster, at least for me. It would have been better confined to a pot! Now I will probably come back from Illinois to find it invading the neighbor's yard, the pool, and who knows what else? Sarah and I decided to nix the beach plans, at least for tonight. The local news coverage convinced us to stay away for now.

  7. Interesting that you quote passages from various pieces of literature at the end of your posts. I'm "into" literature myself and studying for teacher certification in English language arts. I read mostly non-fiction, right now I'm reading Michael Pollan's Second Nature.

    We've grown elephant's ear here but not often since we must dig it up before winter hits. I've had it in pots too.

    My son (15) asked for a wind chime for Christmas. He wants a larger one, much like what you have pictured. Odd, don't you think, that a teenager asked for such a thing as that?

  8. Hi, TC, and welcome. I believe (and have probably read somewhere) that literature holds all of the answers to our modern questions and questions the answers we think we have achieved. People nowadays do not spend enough time exploring for and unearthing the treasures we have in books. Everyone wants concise, anatomized and predigested information delivered as quickly as possible. Very few people take the time to find themselves in literature or look for literature in themselves. I don't think your son's request is so odd. Does he have any interest in music? Well-made windchimes are not only pleasing to listen to but also strike a harmonious chord in us, especially if we are feeling kind of dissonant. Who doesn't remember feeling like that most of the time during adolescence and even once in a while as an adult?

  9. "...and questions the answers we think we have achieved." So true.

    My son is an avid guitarist. And indeed his interest in music might even surpass his father's. ;~)

  10. I'm willing to bet he composes his own music, and the windchimes might just inspire him with a breath of creative genius. I have never heard more pure sounding windchimes than the ones I have pictured. If I remember correctly, they were made in the States by a small, family-owned company. You can find some surprisingly good things at flea markets.