Connie's Corner

Suwannee River...

Instead of fighting the traffic and crowds going to the Cedar Key Art Festival yesterday, we decided to ride over to Fanning Springs and look at the Suwannee River. We used to own three acres of woodsy woods near Fanning. We sold it a few years ago. We couldn't get used to the varmits, mainly ticks and chinch bugs. Jim wanted to see if anyone had ever built a house on it.

We packed a little picnic, cut up cantaloupe, leftover meatloaf sandwiches, and diet lemon-lime sodas, and off we went. The drive is not long, around 40 miles of almost straight highway. There is one short patch called the Fanning Springs Basin where both sides of the road are swampy, sporting hundreds of skinny cyprus and deep ditches with cattails and blooming lilypads. Spanish moss adorns the cyprus and if you happen by in the fog, you can almost see the ghosts walking. Once I remember an otter loping across the highway in front of us. Yesterday, though, was bright and sunny.

Our first stop was the little rest area just this side of the bridge. I walked to a slight bluff overlooking the river. There is no salt smell like the ocean but a distinct river smell of tannic acid, woodsy dirt, and the hint of fish. I had to hang onto the rail as I navigated down the thirty degree metal walkway attached to a floating dock at the bottom. A heartier soul than I took the concrete steps to a tiny sandy beach area. I watched her with envy as I slowly made my way down the ramp. The wind was blowing my hair straight upward. A fairly large motorboat approached and although I could see the red and white and battered 'no wake' sign hidden in the tree limbs, the captain remained oblivious to its instructions. I was two-thirds to the bottom when bouncing began. Instead of being frightened, I loved it. It felt like I was in the boat. The metal posts of the floating dock screeched and sang, loud then soft as the boat went under the bridge. Waves from its wake rolled the dock from side to side and me with it. I breathed in deep breaths of the special air and knew the magic of the river.

After reading the signs about river sturgeon that grow to three hundred pounds and a sunken steamboat three miles upstream that was converted into a scuba diver's paradise, we sat at a picnic table and devoured our lunch. Wind from the water always makes me hungry, then sleepy. Only three other cars stopped while we enjoyed the beauty of it, a wonderful day....

until next time....c