A Return to Florida

When I left Florida with David, Erinna, and Janice in the late 1990’s, I said I would never return.  The year we’d lived in Wesley Chapel gave us many good experiences, yes, but in total, it was not a place I felt at home. Neither did the kids.

Today, I crossed the line from Alabama into the Panhandle of Florida while it was still morning. The skies were full of the kind white clouds I remember gathering just before a big storm may or may not hit. It was beautiful.

Driving in silence, so many thoughts, memories, emotions making their way through me, I decided that I would make my peace with Florida. I would focus on all that I had enjoyed about it, would look this trip for the beauty Jan grew up seeing. Would overlook, just this once, the politics, the orange one’s influence, the greed and vanity I remember encountering in so many who choose to move here so they can exploit the land and its people.

A few hours in to the state, I needed a break. Time to get out of the car. Move my body. Walk.  I began scouting the exit signs as I always do when I’m in heart wide open mode.

Falling Waters State Park, next exit, appeared.

Couldn’t be better, I thought, as I negotiated the turn.

Falling Waters turns out to be the highest waterfall in Florida, which is a bit of a misnomer.  The spring is so tall because it falls into a deep sink hole.

The sink hole allows the spring water to fall a total distance of 73 feet, which in flat Florida, is a lot.

Here’s the jump off point:

Here’s where it lands

The entire park is riddled with sink holes,

a phenomenon I first experienced personally with horror shortly after our move to Wesley Chapel.

I’d found my dream horse. A 12 year old Chestnut Arab/Quarter cross mare named Jessie. I was over the moon. Our four acres included a fenced and quarter fenced ½ acre paddock, a very nice box stall with attached tack room and feed room, and a gorgeous, huge wooden barn big enough to work on a semi-truck inside (which is what the previous tenant had done). Plus, three acres of pine tree studded pasture backing to a wetland, then lake.  And yes, there were gators.

I’m going to find the right horse and bring her home, I told the family.  Everyone was excited.

After a couple of months of looking, trying, and then rejecting this horse and that for various reasons, I found Jessie.  At a very posh ranch about six miles down the back roads from our property.

She was beautiful, had been well trained, and had excellent trail sense, which is what I was looking for.

I scrubbed up our own sturdy box stall, laid fresh straw down, moved good quality hay and feed into the storage room, loaded up the saddle, blanket, and bridle into the car. Asked Jan to give me a lift to the ranch.

“What are you going to do, Nyla Anne?”  she demanded in a stern voice.

“I’m going to ride my horse home,” I said. “I’ve been waiting my adult life for this day and I’m going to do it the old way. I’m not trailering her. I’m riding her. It’s only five and a half miles.”

After a fair amount of discussion, the matter was settled. Jan drove me to the barn after making sure I understand she had first photo rights.  I tacked up my mare, pulled myself into the saddle. Gave her a little cluck and we were on our way.

Jessie was fresh, so a bit dancey at first, but she soon settled into the groove.

Jan kept following us, then passing us to get ahead to take another picture. Both Jessie and I were becoming anxious and  uncomfortable by this, so I finally sent her on home.

We rode the rest of the way companionably, me singing to her as she  more than once looked anxiously backward toward what she still considered home.

At last, we arrived at Wesley Chapel.  I brought her into the pasture. Led her to the fence by the tack room. Took off her saddle and exchanged the bridle for a halter. Rubbed her down.

 I led her around the entire perimeter of the fence of her new digs. speaking in a calm voice, explaining this was her new home, showing her the gate, the water trough, the feed box. I led her into her box stall and stayed awhile with her, reassuring and brushing her.

I finally unhooked the halter and said, “I hope you’ll be happy here,” then turned to walk toward the house.

A moment later, I heard Jessie thundering out of the box behind me, heading full bore across the paddock. Her head was high, mane flowing, tale aloft in that gorgeous Arabian way.  She was beautiful, but she was frantic.

“Jessie, whoa. Whoa there!” I said, moving across to try to head her off.

Suddenly, when she was in full flight, the earth just opened up beneath her.

I watched my beautiful chestnut mare fall into a gaping sink hole that materialized out of nowhere.  She went down, rolling, then stopped.

I freaked, imagining broken legs. Broke into my own frantic run.

Before I could reach her, she righted herself, managed to kind of crawl out by digging in with her front hooves and pulling herself forward.  I reached her just as she got all four feet on the ground.

She was trembling.  I was trembling.  I tore off my tee shirt and wrapped it around her neck for a catch rope, cooing and murmuring, “you’re all right, you’re all right.”

I ran my hands over her legs, her body, could see nothing wrong. But I understood in that moment that I had just lost all trust I had gained with that mare. And indeed, that proved to be true.

So, back to Falling Waters.

This park triggered that memory, it flowing from my road fatigued brain as easily as those fallings waters were falling down into that limestone sink hole. Before disappearing.

I walked the trails above the hole, below the hole, then through the other sink holes which are still growing in size. Other Florida memories came crowding back.

The air smelled of ozone and pine. Birds were singing their hearts out. I began my peace-making in earnest.

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A few hours later, I arrived at my humble little converted barn room at this rural animal rescue and healing center.  It definitely has the feel of old Florida. I believe Jan would approve.

These guys welcomed me.

Then, as I was carrying my things inside, this girl came to say hello