Greetings from St. Augustine
I'm sitting outside at Cafe Cordova, having just finished a day of research and sightseeing in St. Augustine. Let's hear it for free wi-fi!
The morning started with one of my favorite perks of being a writer, putting the top down on the convertible to travel to exotic locales. I drove the winding two lane (most of the way) route from Gainesville to St. Augustine, passing through fields of phlox and towns long gone, and a few like Melrose in the midst of revitalization. Spuds (Yes, they grow potatoes there), Hastings, Florahome and Putnam Hall. I saw Cracker homesteads where Julia and Rand from Smuggler's Bride would have felt right at home. There were pecan groves and roadside stands selling fresh produce and flats of luscious strawberries. I drove beneath live oaks dripping Spanish moss as they arched over the old route to the Ancient City, and enjoyed every minute of it.
When I got to St. Augustine I parked near the old city and stopped for lunch at a Cuban cafe where I had black beans and rice and for dessert, tres leches and black as Hades Cuban coffee. Well fortified, I went to the Historical Society and did some research on old Minorcan costumes and maps from 1817. Then I toured Father O'Reilly House, part of the Convent of the Sisters of St. Joseph and one of the older homes in St. Augustine. This was a new tour for me, and while I knew some of the history of the nuns and their work teaching black children during Reconstruction and after, I learned more about the history of the order, about Father O'Reilly and Father Varela, two early priests in the diocese in the 18th and 19th C. I passed on the opportunity to buy holy cards, but did leave a small donation.
I spent my honeymoon in St. Augustine over 30 years ago and I have to say it's improved in the interim. More history, less emphasis on tacky tourist sites. I walked the old streets, Aviles, St. George, Marine and took time to read all the plaques on the walls. I confirmed that the Plaza was the site of the slave market, and important point in my WIP. Sure, I could have called the historical society to find out, but what's the fun in that?
So now I'm winding up and driving the 70 miles home, having spent a productive work day that nonetheless felt like a mini-vacation. I hope your workday has been equally productive, even if it's likely it wasn't as much fun.
Do you have permission to waltz?
"Would you care to dance as well?” Light-footed Captain St. Armand was standing behind Daphne, smiling down at her, but before she could answer Alexander said, “Mrs. Murray was about to favor me with a dance, Captain St. Armand.” “I was?” “Indeed you were,” Alexander said, helping Daphne to her feet. She cocked her head to the side, listening to the music. “That music is in waltz time, Dr. Murray. Do you know the waltz? It is my favorite!” “Then it will be my favorite also.” Daphne looked up at him as he took her into his arms, a quizzical grin on her face. “What a charming thing to say, Dr. Murray! I vow, you are becoming quite the gallant.” Alexander said nothing to this, concentrating on the music. Yes, he'd waltzed when ashore. On occasion he'd been invited to balls and assemblies, even a surgeon being a useful man to have when the navy was expected to provide gentlemen at entertainments. But he'd never felt the music, the dance had never mattered so mu
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