In the Sunshine State

When my wife and my daughter told me I would be moving to Florida, I pictured living in a 1950’s-style house – white concrete block, roof slanted front to back, front porch with a three-foot-high concrete block wall on three sides and steel poles supporting the roof, wide front crank-to-open front windows, linoleum tile floors. A large oak tree with Spanish moss would flank each side of the house, and a larger oak behind the house would shade the back yard. The house would have a car port. Large-leaf plants would grow in the front yard and back yard.

What I got was a brand new house in a gated community, a house set among dozens of same-style houses, with a yard too small for a riding mower and grass too thick for a push mower. (Too small to justify buying a riding mower, but not too small to pay someone on a riding mower to cut every week.)

My wife had a pool built, 12 feet by 24 feet and with a hot tub at one corner. The patio (lanai here) has pavers, as does the pool perimeter. The whole area is caged, to keep out leaves, grass, birds and kids. There is a mesh fence with two fastening gates across one side of the pool, also to keep out kids.

In the last week, we got so much rain we twice had to drain the pool by about three inches. Life is tough.