Buck is not a natural early riser. When he was on his feet, turning on lights with each foot fall, at 4:30 this morning, I knew he was ready to get back home to Maggie, Longleaf and the wildness of our piney woods retreat.
Buck drove the 637 miles with only a couple of brief stops. I made us several peanut butter sandwiches for the road and stuck a quart of milk and a hunk of basic cheddar into a cooler. Buck tossed three bananas onto the back seat. I walked out the back patio of our hotel room in the dark, opening two iron gates along the way to walk beside an eerie, steaming hot tub, and into the back door of the lobby to check us out while Buck finished loading the car.
Yesterday, the Naples/Ft. Myers area was the warmest in the United States, at 86 degrees, but this morning it was a sweet 62 when we left. Sometimes, there is no greater pleasure than downing a glass of cold milk and smear of peanut butter on whole wheat bread while watching a sunrise and hurtling homeward like bats out of hell.
Yep. This was one of those days.