text:
Buy products related to bedding with matching curtain products and see what . 7 Pieces Luxury Beige, Cream, and Black with Floral Linen Comforter Set . Items 1 – 60 of 116 – Designer bedding with matching curtains and drapes are available in every . Waterford Vaughn Comforter Set – King – Blue & Gold Damask. Choose from a large collection of luxury bedding sets with matching curtains at the global online store of Beddinginn. Bellow are all the luxury bedding sets with . Live in the lap of Luxury with Bedding Sets from Macy’s. Discover Full Luxury Bedding Sets, Queen Luxury Bedding Sets and King Luxury Bedding Sets. 200 results – Buy “Bedding Sets With Curtains” products like Oxford Window Curtain . on a white background, and accented with matching pillow shams and throw pillows. . The paisley printed panel dresses your window in a luxurious rustic . Items 1 – 48 of 62 – Browse a wealth of luxury comforter ensembles, including black and gold bedding, for a set sized full to Cal king. Hues from ivory to ruby red . Shop online for bed linen from the luxury bedding ranges at Amara to achieve the perfect night’s sleep. . Children’s Fitted Sheets (4) · Children’s Pillowcases (9) · Comforters (25) · Curtains (3) . Framework 200 Thread Count Print Duvet Set $118 to $146. New 851 matching products, priced from $ 12.00 to $ 4,689.00. Matching sham(s) echo the design seen on top of the bed to pull the entire This luxurious bedding set combines this Jacquard traditional Como Comforter Set.
Welcome to Greenland Home Fashions. With over 20 years experience in home textile fashions, Greenland has become a leading . Sweet Caroline Quilt Set Results 1 – 60 of 78 – Greenland Home Fashions Quilts & Bedspreads : Overstock.com – Your Online Quilts & Bedspreads Store! Get 5% in rewards with Club O! Buy Greenland Home Antique Chic King Quilt Set: Quilts – Amazon.com . Greenland Home Fashions has manufactured home textile products in the latest . Shop Greenland Home Fashions at Wayfair for a vast selection and the best prices . A wide variety of 100% cotton quilts, coverlets, bedspreads and throws are If you’re looking for where to buy Greenland Home Fashions online, then . Greenland Home Fashions Quilt & Bedspread Sets. See All . Greenland Home Fashions Whitetail Lodge Quilt Set. from$60.38 Special Buy. Greenland . Products 1 – 40 of 127 – Shop for Greenland Home Fashions Quilts & Bedspreads in Bedding. Buy products such as Greenland Home Fashions Oxford Quilt Set at . Greenland Home Fashions Moose & Trees Multi Colored King Size Quilt Set, 3-Piece. $35.00; Buy It . 15% off code POPULAR, $25 min purchase req. $79.45. Enjoy free shipping and easy returns every day at Kohl’s. Find great deals on Greenland Home Fashions Quilts & Coverlets at Kohl’s today! Results 1 – 48 of 76 – Greenland Home Fashions Blooming Prairie – 2 Piece Quilt Set. QUICK VIEW. Greenland Home Fashions Blooming Prairie – 2 Piece Quilt . Greenland Quilts offer a variety of quilts to suit any style from modern to traditional. Greenland offers a large selection suitable for children and teens.
Accentuate your outdoor decor with a burst of warm colors and rustic fall designs. This outdoor pillow creates an enchanting autumn atmosphere everyone will . Shop Wayfair for Outdoor Fall Pillows to match every style and budget. . This outdoor pillow creates an enchanting autumn atmosphere everyone will adore. Buy Ambesonne National Parks Home Decor Throw Pillow Cushion Cover by, Exotic Cascade to Creek Enchanted Autumn with Faded Fall Leaves, Decorative . Buy products related to autumn outdoor pillows and see what customers say about autumn outdoor pillows on Amazon.com ✓ FREE DELIVERY possible on . Nov 8, 2017 – Give your sofa—or chair, or bed, or reading nook—a lift with our kaleidoscopic harvest pillow. Lush greenery. Elegant furnishings. Romantic garden style. The glorious season of fall & all the beauty it inspires See more ideas about Drink, . Crate Pumpkins- what a cute fall/ halloween decoration for outside on the. Add a pop of color with throw pillows from grandinroad. Our decorative pillows for your couch, chair or bed come in a variety of sizes, fabrics and colors. Accentuate your outdoor dcor with a burst of warm colors and rustic fall designs. Simply Daisy’s Harvest Gourd Pile outdoor pillow creates an enchanting autumn .
Buy Tommy Hilfiger Mission Paisley Comforter Set, Twin: Sheet & Pillowcase Sets . It is a tad heavy though, so if your a hot sleeper maybe not for you. Buy Tommy Hilfiger Mission Paisley Comforter Set, Full/Queen: Sheet & Pillowcase Sets . It is a tad heavy though, so if your a hot sleeper maybe not for you. Buy Tommy Hilfiger Mission Paisley Comforter Set, King: Comforter Sets – Amazon.com . It is nice and fluffy without being hot (unlike our previous synthetic fiber . Tone it down. Tommy Hilfiger’s Mission Paisley Collection features delicate, wheat & white tones accented with paisley & abstract designs that calmly update the . You’ll love the Mission Paisley Bedding Collection at Wayfair – Great Deals on all . me warm in the cooler months but doesn’t make you to hot in the summer. Shop Wayfair for the best tommy hilfiger mission paisley. Enjoy Free Shipping on most stuff, even big stuff. You’ll love the Mission Paisley Cotton Duvet Set at Wayfair – Great Deals on all Bed & Bath products with Free Shipping on most stuff, even the big stuff. Get this amazing deal on tommy hilfiger mission paisley twin comforter set 66-in. x 96-in. from Tommy Hilfiger? Tommy Hilfiger Mission Paisley Full/Queen Comforter Set Bedding · Tommy Hilfiger Tommy Hilfiger Mission Paisley Full/Queen Comforter Set Bedding Macys .
The Blazing Needles All-Weather U-Shape Patio Cushion Set is apt for homes with contemporary or cottage country decor. This chair cushion has a core made . Shop Wayfair for the best 22 x 24 outdoor seat cushions. . Perfect for the porch of your coastal cottage, or a beach themed nursery, these cushions resist fading . Online shopping for Cushions – Patio Seating from a great selection at Patio, Lawn & Garden Store. 24-Inch x 24-Inch 2-Piece Deep Seat Chair Cushion in Sunbrella® Canvas Air Blue · Not yet rated Write a review. $191.99. Free Shipping on Orders Over $29. 149 PRODUCTS – Create a cozy getaway with our colorful outdoor cushions and pillows in a variety of patterns and styles. And don’t forget to keep replacement . Shop Target for Black Outdoor Cushions you will love at great low prices. Spend $35+ or use your REDcard & get free 2-day shipping on most items or . Shop Target for White Outdoor Cushions you will love at great low prices. Spend $35+ or use your REDcard & get free 2-day shipping on most items or . Shop our selection of Home Decorators Collection, Outdoor Cushions in the Outdoors . Home Decorators Collection 24 x 24 Outdoor Lounge Chair Cushion in . Products 1 – 40 of 9007 – Shop for Outdoor Cushions in Patio & Outdoor Decor. Buy products such as Better Homes and Gardens Red Universal Outdoor Seat Pad . Products 1 – 36 of 39257 – Browse outdoor cushions and pillows on Houzz, including patio . Lake House Memories Double Sided Tan Pillow Indoor Outdoor Lake .
Shop Wayfair for all the best Check & Plaid Outdoor Pillows. . plaid pattern, these pillows add an eye-catching and elegant touch wherever they are used. Shop Wayfair for the best buffalo plaid outdoor pillows. . With a classic buffalo plaid pattern, this pillow adds an eye-catching and elegant touch wherever it is . Give your furniture settings an elegant makeover with this Buffalo Check Plaid Throw Pillow. The black, white and the gray block design of this pillow is sure to . Results 1 – 24 of 500 – Scottish Tartan Plaid Decorative Throw Pillow Sham – Fits 18″ x 18 . Emvency Pillowcases Chic Geometrictripes In Mustard And White . Add a stylish touch to your home with a rustic gray and beige buffalo check plaid patterned throw pillow. Create a unique, personalized design by adding text, . Items 1 – 60 of 1630 – Find a wide selection of modern, elegant, and contemporary throw pillows from Burke Decor. Shop every style today for free shipping over . Results 1 – 48 of 7202 – US Multicolored Decor Pillow Square Throw Case Cushion Plaid Bed . Elegant Plaid Throw Pillow Case Home Bed Sofa Decorative . 89 results – The Magnolia Home by Joanna Gaines Alena Throw Pillow is ideal for adding a stylish touch to your favorite seat. It showcases a cozy-looking plaid . Shop Joss & Main for stylish Pillows to match your unique tastes and budget. Enjoy Free Shipping on . Bradford Smooth 100% Cotton Throw Pillow. $19.99.
Arhaus contemporary floor lamps are the perfect addition to any home. Shop our selection of floor reading lamps that come in a variety of styles and designs. Anabella Floor Lamp. SKU: 760ANAFLNK. Dimensions: 18″ DIAMETER X 67″ H. $799.00. $723.10. Save an Extra 5% at Checkout10% off Lighting and Decor. Shop the Arc Floor Lamp at Arhaus. . shop the collection 1 PIECES. Arc Floor Lamp With Glass Globe. REG: $499.00SALE: $449.10 . See more ideas about Chandeliers, Farmhouse lighting and Light fixtures. . Marguerite Large Brass Table Lamp with Natural Shade Arhaus Furniture. arhaus – sectional w square ottomans/coffee table; . look beautiful in my bedroom relaxation space with a beautiful floor lamp and plush rug! An unsightly wall, fence or pergola you wish you could soften with some sympathetic planting? Marguerite Large Brass Table Lamp with Natural Shade Arhaus Furniture · Brass Table . Check out Arhaus Furniture’s collection of table & bedside lamps. Contemporary Lighting. . The round side table is a perfect addition to the modern reading nook . This renovation of a 1930s home sympathetically references the original Art . Back of chairs showing (similar to Arhaus wingbacks I liked). Living – Abigail Pewter Chair and Amelia Mirrored end table Arhaus Furniture Gustav Stickley hanging fixture, lanterns #202, five hanging copper lanterns . 71 reviews of Arhaus “My experience with Tysons Corner Arhaus was positive. Ms. Tracey . Then lamps, end table, rug, and artwork for one wall.” in 3 reviews .
299 PRODUCTS – Shop World Market for our affordable outdoor furniture sets and patio furniture from around the world. Plus, FREE Shipping available, or Buy . You’ll love our affordable outdoor patio sets, furniture, seating, cushions & garden decorations from around the world. Plus, FREE Shipping available at World . 110 PRODUCTS – Transform your backyard or patio into an alfresco gathering space with our traditional outdoor furniture set featuring a coffee table, a loveseat . 60 PRODUCTS – Discover all weather outdoor furniture at World Market, and thousands more unique finds from . Small Eucalyptus Wood Mady Outdoor Bench. 208 PRODUCTS – You’ll love our affordable small space furniture sets from around the world. Plus, FREE Shipping available at World Market. Buy online and . 41 PRODUCTS – Shop World Market for our affordable Outdoor Accent Furniture, Tables, Bar . Small Espresso All Weather Wicker Pinamar Outdoor Planter. 57 PRODUCTS – You’ll love our affordable Outdoor Dining Furniture and Wood Table Sets from around the world. Plus, FREE Shipping available at World Market! 176 PRODUCTS – Shop World Market for top quality furniture, affordable home decor, imported rugs, curtains, unique gifts, food, wine and more – at the best . Make room for more with multipurpose furniture, smart storage and lighting, and purposeful decor. We’ve got it all organized. 149 PRODUCTS – You’ll love our affordable outdoor chair cushions, seat cushions & accent pillows from around the world. FREE Shipping available, or Buy .

lowercased:
buy products related to bedding with matching curtain products and see what . 7 pieces luxury beige, cream, and black with floral linen comforter set . items 1 – 60 of 116 – designer bedding with matching curtains and drapes are available in every . waterford vaughn comforter set – king – blue & gold damask. choose from a large collection of luxury bedding sets with matching curtains at the global online store of beddinginn. bellow are all the luxury bedding sets with . live in the lap of luxury with bedding sets from macy’s. discover full luxury bedding sets, queen luxury bedding sets and king luxury bedding sets. 200 results – buy “bedding sets with curtains” products like oxford window curtain . on a white background, and accented with matching pillow shams and throw pillows. . the paisley printed panel dresses your window in a luxurious rustic . items 1 – 48 of 62 – browse a wealth of luxury comforter ensembles, including black and gold bedding, for a set sized full to cal king. hues from ivory to ruby red . shop online for bed linen from the luxury bedding ranges at amara to achieve the perfect night’s sleep. . children’s fitted sheets (4) · children’s pillowcases (9) · comforters (25) · curtains (3) . framework 200 thread count print duvet set $118 to $146. new 851 matching products, priced from $ 12.00 to $ 4,689.00. matching sham(s) echo the design seen on top of the bed to pull the entire this luxurious bedding set combines this jacquard traditional como comforter set.
welcome to greenland home fashions. with over 20 years experience in home textile fashions, greenland has become a leading . sweet caroline quilt set results 1 – 60 of 78 – greenland home fashions quilts & bedspreads : overstock.com – your online quilts & bedspreads store! get 5% in rewards with club o! buy greenland home antique chic king quilt set: quilts – amazon.com . greenland home fashions has manufactured home textile products in the latest . shop greenland home fashions at wayfair for a vast selection and the best prices . a wide variety of 100% cotton quilts, coverlets, bedspreads and throws are if you’re looking for where to buy greenland home fashions online, then . greenland home fashions quilt & bedspread sets. see all . greenland home fashions whitetail lodge quilt set. from$60.38 special buy. greenland . products 1 – 40 of 127 – shop for greenland home fashions quilts & bedspreads in bedding. buy products such as greenland home fashions oxford quilt set at . greenland home fashions moose & trees multi colored king size quilt set, 3-piece. $35.00; buy it . 15% off code popular, $25 min purchase req. $79.45. enjoy free shipping and easy returns every day at kohl’s. find great deals on greenland home fashions quilts & coverlets at kohl’s today! results 1 – 48 of 76 – greenland home fashions blooming prairie – 2 piece quilt set. quick view. greenland home fashions blooming prairie – 2 piece quilt . greenland quilts offer a variety of quilts to suit any style from modern to traditional. greenland offers a large selection suitable for children and teens.
accentuate your outdoor decor with a burst of warm colors and rustic fall designs. this outdoor pillow creates an enchanting autumn atmosphere everyone will . shop wayfair for outdoor fall pillows to match every style and budget. . this outdoor pillow creates an enchanting autumn atmosphere everyone will adore. buy ambesonne national parks home decor throw pillow cushion cover by, exotic cascade to creek enchanted autumn with faded fall leaves, decorative . buy products related to autumn outdoor pillows and see what customers say about autumn outdoor pillows on amazon.com ✓ free delivery possible on . nov 8, 2017 – give your sofa—or chair, or bed, or reading nook—a lift with our kaleidoscopic harvest pillow. lush greenery. elegant furnishings. romantic garden style. the glorious season of fall & all the beauty it inspires see more ideas about drink, . crate pumpkins- what a cute fall/ halloween decoration for outside on the. add a pop of color with throw pillows from grandinroad. our decorative pillows for your couch, chair or bed come in a variety of sizes, fabrics and colors. accentuate your outdoor dcor with a burst of warm colors and rustic fall designs. simply daisy’s harvest gourd pile outdoor pillow creates an enchanting autumn .
buy tommy hilfiger mission paisley comforter set, twin: sheet & pillowcase sets . it is a tad heavy though, so if your a hot sleeper maybe not for you. buy tommy hilfiger mission paisley comforter set, full/queen: sheet & pillowcase sets . it is a tad heavy though, so if your a hot sleeper maybe not for you. buy tommy hilfiger mission paisley comforter set, king: comforter sets – amazon.com . it is nice and fluffy without being hot (unlike our previous synthetic fiber . tone it down. tommy hilfiger’s mission paisley collection features delicate, wheat & white tones accented with paisley & abstract designs that calmly update the . you’ll love the mission paisley bedding collection at wayfair – great deals on all . me warm in the cooler months but doesn’t make you to hot in the summer. shop wayfair for the best tommy hilfiger mission paisley. enjoy free shipping on most stuff, even big stuff. you’ll love the mission paisley cotton duvet set at wayfair – great deals on all bed & bath products with free shipping on most stuff, even the big stuff. get this amazing deal on tommy hilfiger mission paisley twin comforter set 66-in. x 96-in. from tommy hilfiger? tommy hilfiger mission paisley full/queen comforter set bedding · tommy hilfiger tommy hilfiger mission paisley full/queen comforter set bedding macys .
the blazing needles all-weather u-shape patio cushion set is apt for homes with contemporary or cottage country decor. this chair cushion has a core made . shop wayfair for the best 22 x 24 outdoor seat cushions. . perfect for the porch of your coastal cottage, or a beach themed nursery, these cushions resist fading . online shopping for cushions – patio seating from a great selection at patio, lawn & garden store. 24-inch x 24-inch 2-piece deep seat chair cushion in sunbrella® canvas air blue · not yet rated write a review. $191.99. free shipping on orders over $29. 149 products – create a cozy getaway with our colorful outdoor cushions and pillows in a variety of patterns and styles. and don’t forget to keep replacement . shop target for black outdoor cushions you will love at great low prices. spend $35+ or use your redcard & get free 2-day shipping on most items or . shop target for white outdoor cushions you will love at great low prices. spend $35+ or use your redcard & get free 2-day shipping on most items or . shop our selection of home decorators collection, outdoor cushions in the outdoors . home decorators collection 24 x 24 outdoor lounge chair cushion in . products 1 – 40 of 9007 – shop for outdoor cushions in patio & outdoor decor. buy products such as better homes and gardens red universal outdoor seat pad . products 1 – 36 of 39257 – browse outdoor cushions and pillows on houzz, including patio . lake house memories double sided tan pillow indoor outdoor lake .
shop wayfair for all the best check & plaid outdoor pillows. . plaid pattern, these pillows add an eye-catching and elegant touch wherever they are used. shop wayfair for the best buffalo plaid outdoor pillows. . with a classic buffalo plaid pattern, this pillow adds an eye-catching and elegant touch wherever it is . give your furniture settings an elegant makeover with this buffalo check plaid throw pillow. the black, white and the gray block design of this pillow is sure to . results 1 – 24 of 500 – scottish tartan plaid decorative throw pillow sham – fits 18″ x 18 . emvency pillowcases chic geometrictripes in mustard and white . add a stylish touch to your home with a rustic gray and beige buffalo check plaid patterned throw pillow. create a unique, personalized design by adding text, . items 1 – 60 of 1630 – find a wide selection of modern, elegant, and contemporary throw pillows from burke decor. shop every style today for free shipping over . results 1 – 48 of 7202 – us multicolored decor pillow square throw case cushion plaid bed . elegant plaid throw pillow case home bed sofa decorative . 89 results – the magnolia home by joanna gaines alena throw pillow is ideal for adding a stylish touch to your favorite seat. it showcases a cozy-looking plaid . shop joss & main for stylish pillows to match your unique tastes and budget. enjoy free shipping on . bradford smooth 100% cotton throw pillow. $19.99.
arhaus contemporary floor lamps are the perfect addition to any home. shop our selection of floor reading lamps that come in a variety of styles and designs. anabella floor lamp. sku: 760anaflnk. dimensions: 18″ diameter x 67″ h. $799.00. $723.10. save an extra 5% at checkout10% off lighting and decor. shop the arc floor lamp at arhaus. . shop the collection 1 pieces. arc floor lamp with glass globe. reg: $499.00sale: $449.10 . see more ideas about chandeliers, farmhouse lighting and light fixtures. . marguerite large brass table lamp with natural shade arhaus furniture. arhaus – sectional w square ottomans/coffee table; . look beautiful in my bedroom relaxation space with a beautiful floor lamp and plush rug! an unsightly wall, fence or pergola you wish you could soften with some sympathetic planting? marguerite large brass table lamp with natural shade arhaus furniture · brass table . check out arhaus furniture’s collection of table & bedside lamps. contemporary lighting. . the round side table is a perfect addition to the modern reading nook . this renovation of a 1930s home sympathetically references the original art . back of chairs showing (similar to arhaus wingbacks i liked). living – abigail pewter chair and amelia mirrored end table arhaus furniture gustav stickley hanging fixture, lanterns #202, five hanging copper lanterns . 71 reviews of arhaus “my experience with tysons corner arhaus was positive. ms. tracey . then lamps, end table, rug, and artwork for one wall.” in 3 reviews .
299 products – shop world market for our affordable outdoor furniture sets and patio furniture from around the world. plus, free shipping available, or buy . you’ll love our affordable outdoor patio sets, furniture, seating, cushions & garden decorations from around the world. plus, free shipping available at world . 110 products – transform your backyard or patio into an alfresco gathering space with our traditional outdoor furniture set featuring a coffee table, a loveseat . 60 products – discover all weather outdoor furniture at world market, and thousands more unique finds from . small eucalyptus wood mady outdoor bench. 208 products – you’ll love our affordable small space furniture sets from around the world. plus, free shipping available at world market. buy online and . 41 products – shop world market for our affordable outdoor accent furniture, tables, bar . small espresso all weather wicker pinamar outdoor planter. 57 products – you’ll love our affordable outdoor dining furniture and wood table sets from around the world. plus, free shipping available at world market! 176 products – shop world market for top quality furniture, affordable home decor, imported rugs, curtains, unique gifts, food, wine and more – at the best . make room for more with multipurpose furniture, smart storage and lighting, and purposeful decor. we’ve got it all organized. 149 products – you’ll love our affordable outdoor chair cushions, seat cushions & accent pillows from around the world. free shipping available, or buy .


text:
Parking has long been an issue for a popular Perkins Road overpass area already flush with restaurants, bars and shops.
With the area continuing to attract new retailers, some business owners are concerned the problem will only get worse. Even more worrisome to them is what will happen once work begins on the I-10 widening project.
A new rooftop restaurant and bar, Bumsteers, is expected to open soon in the former Crispy Catch building near the overpass that’s been expanded to double its original size. New townhomes are also coming to the Zee Zee Gardens neighborhood.
While existing area business owners are happy about the growth, they also want there to be more discussions about growing parking problems.
Parking discussions, of late, have been about the new Bumsteers and its expanded building. Eric Carnegie, a co-owner of the new restaurant, declined comment.
But the issue weighing heaviest on the minds of business owners is the impending expansion of I-10, which runs through the heart of the overpass area. City Pork owner Stephen Hightower, for example, has dedicated parking for his restaurant that he worries will be lost during construction.
Progress, however, on the widening project has been slow so far, with actual construction not beginning anytime soon, so the threat of lost parking isn’t imminent.
Meanwhile, as new developments open in the area, business owners need to work with each other on parking solutions, says Zippy’s owner Neal Hendrick, rather than repeat problems experienced in the past.

lowercased:
parking has long been an issue for a popular perkins road overpass area already flush with restaurants, bars and shops.
with the area continuing to attract new retailers, some business owners are concerned the problem will only get worse. even more worrisome to them is what will happen once work begins on the i-10 widening project.
a new rooftop restaurant and bar, bumsteers, is expected to open soon in the former crispy catch building near the overpass that’s been expanded to double its original size. new townhomes are also coming to the zee zee gardens neighborhood.
while existing area business owners are happy about the growth, they also want there to be more discussions about growing parking problems.
parking discussions, of late, have been about the new bumsteers and its expanded building. eric carnegie, a co-owner of the new restaurant, declined comment.
but the issue weighing heaviest on the minds of business owners is the impending expansion of i-10, which runs through the heart of the overpass area. city pork owner stephen hightower, for example, has dedicated parking for his restaurant that he worries will be lost during construction.
progress, however, on the widening project has been slow so far, with actual construction not beginning anytime soon, so the threat of lost parking isn’t imminent.
meanwhile, as new developments open in the area, business owners need to work with each other on parking solutions, says zippy’s owner neal hendrick, rather than repeat problems experienced in the past.


text:
Happy weekend! My name is AJ, and I know Hilary through her sister-in-law and fellow-blogger. I have a periodic blog called Eat with AJ. For this guest blog, it seems like the perfect time of year to talk about gardening.
As someone who loves to cook, visiting farmers markets has always been exciting to me. So, it was only natural that when I moved out of my apartment and into a house, I would have a garden.
Credit where credit is due: I did virtually no research into this garden. My fiancé did a lot of that for our garden. We decided on a raised 4 foot by 8 foot garden broken into square foot quadrants. To keep the plants well fed, we layered the raised garden with manure, peat, mushroom compost and generic garden soil.
Looking through the seeds at the hardware store, we were kind of like two kids in a candy store.
“Let’s grow a watermelon!” one of us said.
“How about a pumpkin?!” the other said.
Our most successful plant as of this writing was the red Russian kale. We are in southern Indiana, and I think the weather must have been perfect for it. I had so much kale, I was running out of things to do with it! I made kale chips, of course, and also attempted a couple different egg and kale casseroles. One of my favorite things was tossing the kale and some broccoli in olive oil, lemon pepper and Parmesan cheese, and roasting that in the oven.
I think by next week, our biggest success will actually be tomatoes. I have tons that have grown so far. They just need the temperatures to rise to turn red. I’ll soon have more tomatoes than I can eat.
We did not surround our garden with chicken wire or any other sort of barrier. I’d stick with this moving forward. We did have something — likely a chipmunk — dig around in the dirt a couple times. But by and large, we didn’t have animal problems.
There were some insect issues with our kale after some time. We attracted something that was eating holes into the leaves. This was mostly resolved by removing the damaged leaf and rinsing the plant with a soap and water mixture.
Next year, we will likely start our seeds inside in egg cartons. As novices, we had a hard time distinguishing between legitimate plants and weeds. I’m pretty sure this is how our zucchini and chamomile never grew.
Planting a couple varieties of vegetables also let us learn which we liked better. One of the spinach varieties I loved, and the other I could do without. Same thing with the carrots — I found out that rainbow carrots aren’t actually that delicious (to me), they’re just pretty.
The food from our garden couldn’t compare at all to the grocery store. It was surprisingly delicious, and I was amazed at how long some of the items stayed just fine in the fridge. Given the amount of time our produce typically travels, it’s no real surprise. But, I thought two of us would struggle to eat everything before it went bad, and that hasn’t yet been a problem.
Maintenance of the garden was a bit more than I expected. There’s a lot to do on nice-weather days, between weeding, harvesting and pruning back plants that are getting out of control.
Google also became my best friend. I learned the value in doing an image search for the plant to see what it looked like at various stages. This helped to distinguish between weed and vegetable. It was also was helpful to know when to harvest, especially with the shallots.
Gardening can be intimidating, but with a little bit of research it’s not that hard. It’s good to go into it with low expectations, because inevitably something unexpected will happen.

lowercased:
happy weekend! my name is aj, and i know hilary through her sister-in-law and fellow-blogger. i have a periodic blog called eat with aj. for this guest blog, it seems like the perfect time of year to talk about gardening.
as someone who loves to cook, visiting farmers markets has always been exciting to me. so, it was only natural that when i moved out of my apartment and into a house, i would have a garden.
credit where credit is due: i did virtually no research into this garden. my fiancé did a lot of that for our garden. we decided on a raised 4 foot by 8 foot garden broken into square foot quadrants. to keep the plants well fed, we layered the raised garden with manure, peat, mushroom compost and generic garden soil.
looking through the seeds at the hardware store, we were kind of like two kids in a candy store.
“let’s grow a watermelon!” one of us said.
“how about a pumpkin?!” the other said.
our most successful plant as of this writing was the red russian kale. we are in southern indiana, and i think the weather must have been perfect for it. i had so much kale, i was running out of things to do with it! i made kale chips, of course, and also attempted a couple different egg and kale casseroles. one of my favorite things was tossing the kale and some broccoli in olive oil, lemon pepper and parmesan cheese, and roasting that in the oven.
i think by next week, our biggest success will actually be tomatoes. i have tons that have grown so far. they just need the temperatures to rise to turn red. i’ll soon have more tomatoes than i can eat.
we did not surround our garden with chicken wire or any other sort of barrier. i’d stick with this moving forward. we did have something — likely a chipmunk — dig around in the dirt a couple times. but by and large, we didn’t have animal problems.
there were some insect issues with our kale after some time. we attracted something that was eating holes into the leaves. this was mostly resolved by removing the damaged leaf and rinsing the plant with a soap and water mixture.
next year, we will likely start our seeds inside in egg cartons. as novices, we had a hard time distinguishing between legitimate plants and weeds. i’m pretty sure this is how our zucchini and chamomile never grew.
planting a couple varieties of vegetables also let us learn which we liked better. one of the spinach varieties i loved, and the other i could do without. same thing with the carrots — i found out that rainbow carrots aren’t actually that delicious (to me), they’re just pretty.
the food from our garden couldn’t compare at all to the grocery store. it was surprisingly delicious, and i was amazed at how long some of the items stayed just fine in the fridge. given the amount of time our produce typically travels, it’s no real surprise. but, i thought two of us would struggle to eat everything before it went bad, and that hasn’t yet been a problem.
maintenance of the garden was a bit more than i expected. there’s a lot to do on nice-weather days, between weeding, harvesting and pruning back plants that are getting out of control.
google also became my best friend. i learned the value in doing an image search for the plant to see what it looked like at various stages. this helped to distinguish between weed and vegetable. it was also was helpful to know when to harvest, especially with the shallots.
gardening can be intimidating, but with a little bit of research it’s not that hard. it’s good to go into it with low expectations, because inevitably something unexpected will happen.


text:
There is the mistaken impression that computers represent the future and that everyone, especially the very young, should become computer savvy as soon as possible. According to this view, failure to expose children to high technology handicaps their ability to function in the real world.
However, in the real world, addiction to the omnipresent small screens can be an actual handicap. Discouraging overexposure to technology might actually be an advantage in today’s hyper-connected world.
Such views are not those of overprotective parents unfamiliar with these technologies. Even the most enthusiastic promoters of computer gadgetry can be seen discouraging the very products they produce. The most notable case was Apple co-founder Steve Jobs, who claimed he did not let his teenage children have iPads and limited their tech consumption at home.
When the iPad exploded into market in 2010, Jobs’ daughters Erin and Eve were not part of the market. The late Steve Jobs and wife Laurene Powell deliberately regulated their children’s exposure to the new products and its culture.
What did the young Jobs girls do instead of texting and surfing the Web? Apparently, they did the things normal children do.
Biographer Walter Isaacson reports the family had dinner together every night where they would discuss books, history and other non-technical things. The iPad, iPhone and other devices had no place at their table. And the children did not seem particularly disturbed by the fact.
Jobs, who died in October 2011, thought that limiting his daughters’ computer use would help his children develop a love for creative expression. He did not want them whiling away their time on games and useless programs. Paradoxically, Jobs enthusiastically filled the world with gadgets that transformed the way most people listen to music, entertain themselves and communicate. However, what he marketed to other families, he did not necessarily want for his own.
Apparently Jobs was not alone.
It appears that a growing number of high-tech executives take measures to limit the amount of exposure their children have to the technology they produce, design and market. These concerned parents cite the new technology’s overwhelming attraction and addiction as factors in their decisions.
One example of this trend is found at a Silicon Valley elementary school. According to a 2011 New York Times story on the trend, many engineers and executives from high profile tech companies like Apple, eBay, Google, Hewlett-Packard, and Yahoo send their children to a Waldorf elementary school in Los Altos, California, where television viewing is discouraged and electronic devices are banned. They claim such radical educational measures are necessary to ensure their children develop all their talents without unnecessary distractions.
Such “radical” measures are really not that radical. In fact, parents need not send their children to expensive private schools to allow their own children the same privileges as their counterparts in Los Altos.
All parents need to do is let their children be children. Children need to grow up being children with all the interacting, creativity and spontaneity that has always been part of a healthy childhood. They need to do things like play games, eat together as a family and solve problems together.
The real radicals are those who allow their children to be electronically sequestered and tethered to their little devices and thus never encountering the real world. If there is any doubt about this, all one needs to do is ask the experts. Steve Jobs would agree.

lowercased:
there is the mistaken impression that computers represent the future and that everyone, especially the very young, should become computer savvy as soon as possible. according to this view, failure to expose children to high technology handicaps their ability to function in the real world.
however, in the real world, addiction to the omnipresent small screens can be an actual handicap. discouraging overexposure to technology might actually be an advantage in today’s hyper-connected world.
such views are not those of overprotective parents unfamiliar with these technologies. even the most enthusiastic promoters of computer gadgetry can be seen discouraging the very products they produce. the most notable case was apple co-founder steve jobs, who claimed he did not let his teenage children have ipads and limited their tech consumption at home.
when the ipad exploded into market in 2010, jobs’ daughters erin and eve were not part of the market. the late steve jobs and wife laurene powell deliberately regulated their children’s exposure to the new products and its culture.
what did the young jobs girls do instead of texting and surfing the web? apparently, they did the things normal children do.
biographer walter isaacson reports the family had dinner together every night where they would discuss books, history and other non-technical things. the ipad, iphone and other devices had no place at their table. and the children did not seem particularly disturbed by the fact.
jobs, who died in october 2011, thought that limiting his daughters’ computer use would help his children develop a love for creative expression. he did not want them whiling away their time on games and useless programs. paradoxically, jobs enthusiastically filled the world with gadgets that transformed the way most people listen to music, entertain themselves and communicate. however, what he marketed to other families, he did not necessarily want for his own.
apparently jobs was not alone.
it appears that a growing number of high-tech executives take measures to limit the amount of exposure their children have to the technology they produce, design and market. these concerned parents cite the new technology’s overwhelming attraction and addiction as factors in their decisions.
one example of this trend is found at a silicon valley elementary school. according to a 2011 new york times story on the trend, many engineers and executives from high profile tech companies like apple, ebay, google, hewlett-packard, and yahoo send their children to a waldorf elementary school in los altos, california, where television viewing is discouraged and electronic devices are banned. they claim such radical educational measures are necessary to ensure their children develop all their talents without unnecessary distractions.
such “radical” measures are really not that radical. in fact, parents need not send their children to expensive private schools to allow their own children the same privileges as their counterparts in los altos.
all parents need to do is let their children be children. children need to grow up being children with all the interacting, creativity and spontaneity that has always been part of a healthy childhood. they need to do things like play games, eat together as a family and solve problems together.
the real radicals are those who allow their children to be electronically sequestered and tethered to their little devices and thus never encountering the real world. if there is any doubt about this, all one needs to do is ask the experts. steve jobs would agree.


text:
When she was pregnant with me (her first child), my mother was stricken with preeclampsia, a pregnancy-induced hypertension. Her body did not recognize me as a fetus, and her immune system responded as if I were a virus or a toxin—something to get rid of. This severely endangered her life as well as mine. The only course of action was to deliver me by emergency cesarean section.
I was born in a small hospital in Santa Maria, California. A team of NICU surgeons flew to Santa Maria from Fresno to deliver me. Then they airlifted me to Fresno’s larger, better-equipped hospital with a state-of-the-art NICU, where I remained for eight weeks. I weighed a mere two pounds, six ounces. I was kept alive in an incubator. IV needles were jabbed into my scalp; feeding tubes were shoved down my nose. I needed a respirator to breathe.
Today, I am a healthy, happy, “normal” 28-year-old, with little evidence of my harrowing premature birth. Still, it is a part of my history, something I think about often—especially in regard to my writing. Here are the lessons my birth has taught me about writing . . . and about life.
The stories we tell ourselves are important.
Cold hard facts are not as important as the way we choose to interpret them. My fact: I was born incredibly sick, tiny, and vulnerable. Since I don’t remember my birth, I rely on my parents for the story. They could have chosen to tell it in a light of weakness or victimhood. Instead, they have always used the facts as an example of my inner strength and fierce will to live. My dad likes to remember the surgeon who delivered me saying, “Your daughter is a fighter.” My mom talks about the relief she felt upon hearing my first cry—not feeble, but strong-lunged.
First the story was told to me; later I began to tell it to myself. As I grew up, my identity as a preemie became my own personal motto: P.A.S.T. for “Preemies Are So Tough.” Still today, I draw upon the story of my birth when I am feeling lost, overwhelmed, anxious or discouraged. I remind myself that I am a preemie; I am a fighter; I am tough. Life’s hardships seem less intimidating when I think of all I have already overcome.
What challenges have you overcome in your life? What stories are you telling yourself? Are they stories of strength and perseverance, or stories of weakness and disappointment? How can you shape your self-talk into words of empowerment?
The story of my birth also reminds me of the deep importance of stories as a whole. Stories change lives. Stories heal people. Stories connect and embrace the world. The story I tell myself about being a preemie has shaped my identity—indeed, has shaped my life—more than anything else. And it continues to do so.
Pay attention to inner dialogue.
Just as you should pay attention to your own inner dialogue—to the stories you tell yourself—you should also pay attention to your characters’ inner dialogues. Life is not straightforward; it is complicated and chaotic, and often there is no “right” answer to a problem. When fictional characters always make seamless decisions and never second-guess themselves, they may not feel authentic to the reader. What is your character wondering or worrying about? What does your character wish she had done differently? If your character could look into the future, what would he be most curious to know?
Moreover, you can use inner dialogue to show the complexity of your characters. Reflecting on my birth reminds me that people are not static and neatly categorized; we often feel a jumble of emotions at once. When I was born, my parents were ecstatic but also terrified. (I imagine most parents feel this way, not only parents of preemies!) As a preemie, I have built my identity as a tough and resolute person—but I don’t always feel that way. Sometimes I doubt myself, feel incapable, or sink into self-pity.
Likewise, your characters have individual personalities and traits; don’t let them become caricatures. Brainstorm a list of the top four or five adjectives you would use to describe each character. Now jot down a scenario in which they might embody the opposite of each of those words. You need not include these scenarios in your actual story, but they may serve as a useful reminder that your characters are complex and nuanced people.
Dig deep into your characters’ histories.
Do not only focus on who they are now, or even in the recent past. What are their early memories? What are their deeply-held pains and cherished triumphs? What are they proud of—or ashamed about—in their histories? Exploring these questions will help you get to the heart of your characters’ lives and delve into what truly matters to them—and why. Many people I encounter in my daily life are not aware that I was a preemie, and yet this aspect of my past has inexorably shaped the adult person I am today. In what ways do your characters’ pasts affect their present lives?
In addition to personal histories, think about family histories. What traditions have been passed down through your character’s extended family? How does your character feel about his or her ancestors? These can be physical characteristics, formal traditions, or even thought patterns and emotional legacies. For instance, a character who has never raised his hand against anyone, and yet has a family history of violent crime, will be affected by that heritage in his thoughts and actions. It is also important to note if your character has a lack of knowledge about her family history. What mysteries are shrouding the past? What memories might pop up suddenly in your character’s unfolding storyline, juxtaposed with the events and conflicts of the present day?
Writing can be difficult, but it is a gift.
Occasionally, I go through periods of writer’s block, where my “idea well” seems utterly dry and tumbleweeds blow by the desolate terrain of my creative imagination. In these periods, sitting down to write feels like the hardest thing in the world.
Even when my writing is going well, it can still be scary—first drafts seem like dog-paddling in the middle of an immense body of water, slogging towards a hazy shoreline. Sitting at my computer and taking a few strokes forward on my novel-in-progress is much harder than pretty much anything else I could spend my time doing: cleaning my kitchen or reading a book or brainstorming a quick blog post.
Writing is difficult. Revising is difficult. Querying agents and editors is difficult. Putting yourself out there is difficult. Rejection is difficult; criticism is difficult; rewriting again and again is difficult. And yet, it is helpful to remember that none of these things are as difficult as so many challenges that people go through every day. Things like cancer. Divorce. Job loss. Car accidents. Hunger. Poverty. Domestic violence. Homelessness. Grief.
Writing is not truly difficult, not in that sense. Writing is an incredible gift—the opportunity to sit down with ourselves in the quiet of our own minds; to escape into new worlds of our own creation; and to perhaps share the magic of our invented worlds with others.
When I catch myself sinking into the this is so hard! thought-cycle about my writing, I remind myself that writing is nothing compared to my fight for survival as a preemie: breathing with help from a respirator, being hooked up to feeding tubes, having my infant heels used as pincushions to draw blood. The story of my birth helps me shift my perspective, step backwards and remember the bigger picture.
What gifts has writing given you? What are you grateful for in your writing life? Jot it down on a piece of paper and hang it above your desk, or type it into your screen-saver, where you will see it often. I have found that gratitude is powerful fuel for the fire of motivation.
Hanging above my writing desk, I do not have words. Instead, I have a photograph. It is of a tiny newborn in an incubator, hooked up to an array of tubes and wires and monitors. She is accompanied by a small teddy bear that is about her size. I still have the teddy bear. When I hold it in my hands, I could be holding my newborn self. So fragile. So strong. So filled with possibilities. The preemie I once was spurs on the writer—and person—I am becoming.
Dallas Woodburn, a recent Steinbeck Fellow in Creative Writing, has published fiction and nonfiction in Zyzzyva, Conclave: A Journal of Character, Fourth River, The Nashville Review, The Los Angeles Times, North Dakota Quarterly, and Monkeybicycle, among many others. A three-time Pushcart Prize nominee, she won second place in the American Fiction Prize and her plays have been produced in Los Angeles and New York City. Her short story collection was a finalist for the Flannery O'Connor Award for Short Fiction, the Augury Books Prose Award, and the Horatio Nelson Fiction Prize. She is the founder of Write On! For Literacy, an organization that empowers young people through reading and writing endeavors.

lowercased:
when she was pregnant with me (her first child), my mother was stricken with preeclampsia, a pregnancy-induced hypertension. her body did not recognize me as a fetus, and her immune system responded as if i were a virus or a toxin—something to get rid of. this severely endangered her life as well as mine. the only course of action was to deliver me by emergency cesarean section.
i was born in a small hospital in santa maria, california. a team of nicu surgeons flew to santa maria from fresno to deliver me. then they airlifted me to fresno’s larger, better-equipped hospital with a state-of-the-art nicu, where i remained for eight weeks. i weighed a mere two pounds, six ounces. i was kept alive in an incubator. iv needles were jabbed into my scalp; feeding tubes were shoved down my nose. i needed a respirator to breathe.
today, i am a healthy, happy, “normal” 28-year-old, with little evidence of my harrowing premature birth. still, it is a part of my history, something i think about often—especially in regard to my writing. here are the lessons my birth has taught me about writing . . . and about life.
the stories we tell ourselves are important.
cold hard facts are not as important as the way we choose to interpret them. my fact: i was born incredibly sick, tiny, and vulnerable. since i don’t remember my birth, i rely on my parents for the story. they could have chosen to tell it in a light of weakness or victimhood. instead, they have always used the facts as an example of my inner strength and fierce will to live. my dad likes to remember the surgeon who delivered me saying, “your daughter is a fighter.” my mom talks about the relief she felt upon hearing my first cry—not feeble, but strong-lunged.
first the story was told to me; later i began to tell it to myself. as i grew up, my identity as a preemie became my own personal motto: p.a.s.t. for “preemies are so tough.” still today, i draw upon the story of my birth when i am feeling lost, overwhelmed, anxious or discouraged. i remind myself that i am a preemie; i am a fighter; i am tough. life’s hardships seem less intimidating when i think of all i have already overcome.
what challenges have you overcome in your life? what stories are you telling yourself? are they stories of strength and perseverance, or stories of weakness and disappointment? how can you shape your self-talk into words of empowerment?
the story of my birth also reminds me of the deep importance of stories as a whole. stories change lives. stories heal people. stories connect and embrace the world. the story i tell myself about being a preemie has shaped my identity—indeed, has shaped my life—more than anything else. and it continues to do so.
pay attention to inner dialogue.
just as you should pay attention to your own inner dialogue—to the stories you tell yourself—you should also pay attention to your characters’ inner dialogues. life is not straightforward; it is complicated and chaotic, and often there is no “right” answer to a problem. when fictional characters always make seamless decisions and never second-guess themselves, they may not feel authentic to the reader. what is your character wondering or worrying about? what does your character wish she had done differently? if your character could look into the future, what would he be most curious to know?
moreover, you can use inner dialogue to show the complexity of your characters. reflecting on my birth reminds me that people are not static and neatly categorized; we often feel a jumble of emotions at once. when i was born, my parents were ecstatic but also terrified. (i imagine most parents feel this way, not only parents of preemies!) as a preemie, i have built my identity as a tough and resolute person—but i don’t always feel that way. sometimes i doubt myself, feel incapable, or sink into self-pity.
likewise, your characters have individual personalities and traits; don’t let them become caricatures. brainstorm a list of the top four or five adjectives you would use to describe each character. now jot down a scenario in which they might embody the opposite of each of those words. you need not include these scenarios in your actual story, but they may serve as a useful reminder that your characters are complex and nuanced people.
dig deep into your characters’ histories.
do not only focus on who they are now, or even in the recent past. what are their early memories? what are their deeply-held pains and cherished triumphs? what are they proud of—or ashamed about—in their histories? exploring these questions will help you get to the heart of your characters’ lives and delve into what truly matters to them—and why. many people i encounter in my daily life are not aware that i was a preemie, and yet this aspect of my past has inexorably shaped the adult person i am today. in what ways do your characters’ pasts affect their present lives?
in addition to personal histories, think about family histories. what traditions have been passed down through your character’s extended family? how does your character feel about his or her ancestors? these can be physical characteristics, formal traditions, or even thought patterns and emotional legacies. for instance, a character who has never raised his hand against anyone, and yet has a family history of violent crime, will be affected by that heritage in his thoughts and actions. it is also important to note if your character has a lack of knowledge about her family history. what mysteries are shrouding the past? what memories might pop up suddenly in your character’s unfolding storyline, juxtaposed with the events and conflicts of the present day?
writing can be difficult, but it is a gift.
occasionally, i go through periods of writer’s block, where my “idea well” seems utterly dry and tumbleweeds blow by the desolate terrain of my creative imagination. in these periods, sitting down to write feels like the hardest thing in the world.
even when my writing is going well, it can still be scary—first drafts seem like dog-paddling in the middle of an immense body of water, slogging towards a hazy shoreline. sitting at my computer and taking a few strokes forward on my novel-in-progress is much harder than pretty much anything else i could spend my time doing: cleaning my kitchen or reading a book or brainstorming a quick blog post.
writing is difficult. revising is difficult. querying agents and editors is difficult. putting yourself out there is difficult. rejection is difficult; criticism is difficult; rewriting again and again is difficult. and yet, it is helpful to remember that none of these things are as difficult as so many challenges that people go through every day. things like cancer. divorce. job loss. car accidents. hunger. poverty. domestic violence. homelessness. grief.
writing is not truly difficult, not in that sense. writing is an incredible gift—the opportunity to sit down with ourselves in the quiet of our own minds; to escape into new worlds of our own creation; and to perhaps share the magic of our invented worlds with others.
when i catch myself sinking into the this is so hard! thought-cycle about my writing, i remind myself that writing is nothing compared to my fight for survival as a preemie: breathing with help from a respirator, being hooked up to feeding tubes, having my infant heels used as pincushions to draw blood. the story of my birth helps me shift my perspective, step backwards and remember the bigger picture.
what gifts has writing given you? what are you grateful for in your writing life? jot it down on a piece of paper and hang it above your desk, or type it into your screen-saver, where you will see it often. i have found that gratitude is powerful fuel for the fire of motivation.
hanging above my writing desk, i do not have words. instead, i have a photograph. it is of a tiny newborn in an incubator, hooked up to an array of tubes and wires and monitors. she is accompanied by a small teddy bear that is about her size. i still have the teddy bear. when i hold it in my hands, i could be holding my newborn self. so fragile. so strong. so filled with possibilities. the preemie i once was spurs on the writer—and person—i am becoming.
dallas woodburn, a recent steinbeck fellow in creative writing, has published fiction and nonfiction in zyzzyva, conclave: a journal of character, fourth river, the nashville review, the los angeles times, north dakota quarterly, and monkeybicycle, among many others. a three-time pushcart prize nominee, she won second place in the american fiction prize and her plays have been produced in los angeles and new york city. her short story collection was a finalist for the flannery o'connor award for short fiction, the augury books prose award, and the horatio nelson fiction prize. she is the founder of write on! for literacy, an organization that empowers young people through reading and writing endeavors.


text:
Land, sea, or air, 90 miles is 90 miles, except when describing the water space between Havana and Key West, a distance protracted by a generation of despair. Lately, men and women have taken to launching inner tubes beyond the landfall beacon off Morro Castle and paddling north. Crossing the Florida Straits in a cruiser is one thing, but attempting it in a rubber doughnut, one's legs poking through the bright skin of the abyss, is a whole different proposition. In Cuba, desperation frames crazy optimism, or there is no optimism at all.
From my room on the seventh floor of the Hotel Nacional, I could look down on the Malecón, the avenue that traces Havana's waterfront. Beyond the flow of bicycles, pedestrians, and a few old cars, there was the sea, inflated with gray light. A streak of indigo marks the edge of the Gulf Stream--it sweeps in close to Havana Harbor--and there were men fishing the rim of it, as if fishing the bank of a river. There was no fuel for boats, so they floated out in inner tubes. Except in the tourist hotels there was very little food, so they fished. But there weren't many fish. A few weeks of living like that, and even I--not the bravest of men--would consider worming into an inner tube and paddling north toward Duval Street.
Sometimes distance has resonance. Maps are deceptive.
Here's what happened on my first attempt to drive there: I landed at José Martí International Airport in the late afternoon and stopped at the government's reception booth, where I bought two pretty good maps. The workers there wanted to know if I needed a hotel in downtown Havana, 20 minutes away. Perhaps they could also arrange a tour for me?
No, I told them, I only needed a car. There were still a couple of hours of daylight left. I figured I could make it most of the way to the Zapata Peninsula by sunset. Besides, I had been to Havana in 1977 on a scuba trip to the Isle of Pines, then again in 1980 during the Mariel boat lift, when 120,000 Cubans fled the country. There were things I liked about Havana, but a city is a city, whereas a swamp is a good place to spend time.
The workers puzzled over my open maps. I am often disoriented when traveling and so tend to trust the advice of others. But these ladies seemed disoriented, too. I pointed to the village of Playa Larga, 112 miles southeast of Havana, on the Bay of Pigs at the eastern fringe of the Zapata Peninsula.
Impossible, said one of the workers. There was no place to stay at Playa Larga.
I pointed to Playa del Caimito, on the western fringe.
No place to stay there, either. Wouldn't it be better if they booked a tour for me to another area? That way I could stay at a nice hotel in Havana and ride the tour buses each day.
The harder they pushed for Havana, the more determined I was to avoid it. I didn't need a hotel, and I could provision myself from the small villages through which I passed--that was possible, wasn't it?
The workers still seemed disoriented, peering at the map from odd angles. Perhaps, they said.
The Cuban car-rental agency was in a building the size of a small shed. It was a popular place with the locals because it had air-conditioning. I attempted to negotiate for a car amid the noise and cigarette smoke. The man in charge was pleasant, but there was no negotiating: $53 a day for a small Nissan, 60 free miles, 50 cents a mile after that. Expensive, but there were no alternatives. The price, fixed by the government, would be the same no matter where I tried. The idlers inside watched me sign the contract. Among them was a prostitute named Evelina, a girl of about 19 who shadowed every move I made. She wore a red blouse and green spandex shorts. Her face was very pretty; everything else about her was old. When I ducked under the hood to check the car's oil, Evelina ducked with me. When I checked the spare tire in the trunk, she checked, too. I began to worry that Evelina came with the car, hired through a clause somewhere in the contract's fine print. She kept asking for a ride. When I said I was not going to Havana, she took the map and studied the marks I had made on it. Her expression was a mixture of fascination and confusion, a reaction parroted by every Cuban of whom I asked directions. No one seemed to know where he was. The map showed a world that was too big.
I left Evelina standing on the curb, her face floating in the rearview mirror. I drove out into the late-afternoon bicycle traffic--Cuba is now a bicycle society and in this way resembles Asia. It is a wonderful feeling to be underway in an unfamiliar country, alone and on the move, and I would have felt great but for one thing: My car had no gas. I had paid $5 for five liters, slightly more than a gallon, at the agency, but the gauge read below empty.
I stopped at the first service station. It was closed. So was the second. The third had an attendant, but no gas. Same at the fourth. By now I was miles from the rental agency and facing the possibility--the probability, really--that I would have to push my $53-a-day car to Zapata.
I headed back to the rental agency, coasting when I could. I got my money back. Evelina seemed happy to see me, but not surprised. I left her and the rental car, and took a cab into Havana.
It's illegal for a U.S. citizen to spend money in Cuba unless he is a journalist or has relatives living there and gets a special dispensation from the U.S. Treasury Department. I had flown in on one of the common illegal routes, a Cubana Airlines flight from Nassau, but I was a journalist. And I was certainly spending money. A night in a simple room at the Hotel Nacional, the old Meyer Lansky brothel, cost $190, so it was while looking for a cheaper place that I met Monroe.
Monroe was a Canadian, a veteran, and a lawyer--an outlandish trinity that complemented his outlandish personality. Though a small man, he cut a swath in his white sportcoat, slicked-back hair, and neatly trimmed Cesar Romero mustache. When he walked, he sometimes limped. ("An old war wound," he said.) He was always firing off faxes. ("The damn publisher keeps asking for my book!") He smoked Cohiba cigars but preferred the Trinidads that he said were given to him by Castro himself. For the last year he had spent every other month in Havana, making business connections in preparation for the switch to free enterprise that he said was inevitable.
"It can't go on like this," he said to me. "And when it changes, I'll be ready and waiting. The money will flood in. I'll buy a mansion east of town, hire some servants, and winter here."
When Monroe was not hurrying off to meetings with high government officials, he could usually be found in the patio bar of the Havana Libre Hotel, entertaining Cuban foreign ministers or ogling the prostitutes that swarmed the place. Monroe was at ease with the dignitaries, but the prostitutes troubled him. Late one night he said, "I haven't been with one of those girls. You won't catch me paying 20 bucks and sneaking out to the swimming pool! I have a fiancée, for God's sake!" It was less a statement than a proclamation. He seemed to be trying to convince himself.
I don't know how much of what Monroe told me was true, but I liked him. He was smart, savvy, and I recognized his affectations and talking jags for what they were: The guy was homesick, hotel-weary, and half crazy from living as an expatriate in Havana--though it was certainly better to live in Havana as an expatriate than as a citizen. For us there was at least food to buy. Monroe knew the few bars and restaurants that were still open--all tourist places--and everyone at the bars and restaurants knew him. At La Floridita, a bronze bust of Ernest Hemingway watched us drink daiquiris. At La Bodeguita del Medio, we ate black beans and chewed the fresh mint leaves in our mojitos. Outside, the children begged for coins, the men begged us to buy black-market cigars, and the women winked and pressed their breasts against our arms.
Monroe would say, "This city is part museum, part whore. Don't the collapsed buildings remind you of Dresden? But all I have to do is stick it out. Do my work and keep to my routine. A month, after all, isn't very long. Havana is going to boom again, and when it does, I'll be rich."
Monroe, like everyone else in Havana, was waiting for something.
One night I met Carlos Calvo, who claimed to be a right fielder on the national baseball team, and he invited me to his practice the next day. I took a cab to the sports center, the Ciudad Deportiva, where Carlos met me, explaining that his team hadn't shown up, that practice had apparently been canceled. He shrugged, adding, "This is Cuba. Who can say why?" Instead, the two of us sat and watched tryouts for the national 15- and 16-year-olds team: 30 skinny kids dressed in rags, no spikes, hitting without helmets, sharing their cheap Batos ball gloves, but playing like I have never seen kids play before. It wasn't so much the skill--though they certainly had skill--as it was the passion with which they played, a kind of controlled frenzy that made their otherwise aggressive coaches appear meek in comparison.
Carlos was unimpressed. Perhaps that kind of fervor was common in Cuban ballparks. Or perhaps one of these kids would someday try to take his job, so Carlos chose not to acknowledge them. He seemed more concerned with the condition of the field. The diamond was pitted with holes; weeds were knee-high in the outfield. "They used to mow it," he told me more than once. "I don't know why they don't mow it now."
That night, I found Monroe at his table in the patio bar. He was drinking daiquiris, which was unusual. Monroe drank very little, and never at night. It wasn't part of his routine. I joined him for a round, and he told me about his business dealings that day. Then, as I rose to leave, he said, "I never do this, but one more daiquiri and I'll be drunk--over the line." Naturally, I told the waiter to bring Monroe one more daiquiri before I headed off to bed.
At first light I was awakened by pounding at my door. It was a haggard, wild-eyed Monroe. "Where were you when I needed you?" he rasped. "I was almost killed last night. Electrocuted!"
I tried to calm him. He sat and explained that he had gotten very drunk and stumbled off past the hotel pool in search of a place to urinate and had brushed into some bare electrical wires. He showed me two black burns on his forearm that looked more like a vampire bite. The shock had knocked him unconscious, he said, but luckily one of the staff had found him and managed to revive him.
"I banged and banged on your door," he said. "I was having trouble breathing. I needed help, and the hospitals here are worthless!"
I hadn't heard any banging. And I was suspicious of Monroe's strange story. Why had he wandered outside to whiz when the hotel's restrooms were inside? I suggested he show me the bare electrical wires. He was reluctant, but I pressed the issue. We took the elevator to the pool, and I followed Monroe to a wooden gate.
The gate led to a cramped space, not more than a yard wide, behind a row of cabanas. There were water pipes and a jumble of spliced electrical wires. But for Monroe to have touched the wires with his forearm, he would have had to be lying down or kneeling.
I looked from the wires to Monroe. Monroe looked at the ground. "I know," he said finally. "I know." He sounded exhausted, deflated. "I shouldn't have lied to you, and I shouldn't have done it. But she was so beautiful. You've seen those girls in the bar. My God! And how many months have I been fighting it?"
It must have been an astonishing event: coition interrupted by a jolt of electricity and a shower of sparks. I found it hilarious--hilarious in a way that squeezes the heart--but Monroe would not be consoled. "I swore I'd never do anything like that," he moaned. "I'm here strictly on business. I have a routine! But this damn city does something to you. Believe me, Randy, it's this damn city!"
I had not given up on looking for the Cuban Everglades. I spent time talking to people in the bookstores near the University of Havana. It was extraordinary how little they knew of regions outside the city. I might as well have been asking them about the dark side of the moon. I did learn that there was a small resort on the Bay of Pigs at Playa Larga, but it was closed. "Broken," I was told. The hotel at Mariel Harbor was "broken," too, as were several others. I got the impression that the Cuban government was funneling its shrinking food supply into only the most expensive and popular resorts, and closing the rest.
Even so, when I finally did find a place to buy gas, I rented a Daihatsu, spent $47 to fill its small tank, and headed southeast on A-1, the country's main highway. I had slept in cars before, and I could provision along the way. Anything to get out of Havana.
I drove carefully, dodging Russian-made Ladas, bicycles, and a few donkey carts. If nothing else, Cuba is a great place to drive a car. The macadam roads are wide and fast. Soon the traffic disappeared; the city blurred, thinned, and finally vanished behind me. In the next hours I would see maybe two dozen cars on that six-lane highway, most of them 1950ish Chevys, though there were a few old Mercedeses and a tired Ford, too. The Chevys were cheerful things to see, for they were brightly painted and their mirrors were decorated as if to celebrate a religious holiday. I always waved at their drivers as I passed; they always smiled and waved back.
On my trip in 1977, I had visited a few rural areas, and I was eager to get into the country again. At that time, in Cuba as in Central America, it was accepted behavior to stop at a house and offer money in exchange for a meal. Though very poor, the people usually had beans and fresh fish or turtle meat to spare and were glad for the cash and, perhaps, the company. In the early afternoon I decided to find a village and see about lunch. The map showed that I was near Güines, a dot off the main highway, so I turned south and banged my way along five miles of sugarcane until I came to a settlement of houses on a dirt road. The settlement was dominated by a packing plant made of corrugated metal. Two soldiers stood by the closed gate at the entrance. I asked them about a place to eat. There was none, they said. Down the road, an old man sitting in the shade suggested that I knock at the door of a building beside the factory. I knocked. The door opened a crack. The woman peering through told me she had no food. The door closed again.
I decided to try another village. Compared to Güines, San Nicolás was a metropolis. There were a few buildings of marble and coral. Judging from the rows of old houses and the sidewalk crowded with pedestrians, I guessed that it was home to perhaps 10,000 souls. There was what seemed to be a restaurant: an open place with tile floors and crowded tables. I went to the counter, smiling at the people who gawked at me. No tourist buses came to San Nicolás. My car was an oddity; I was a curiosity. An old woman stood at my elbow, staring so intensely that she seemed to doubt that I was real. I ordered food and a cold beer, then wondered why the woman behind the counter reacted with embarrassment. For the first time, I noticed what was on the tables of this crowded place: nothing.
"In the evening, we will have soup," the woman told me. "Only soup. But you must wait with the others."
The people outside weren't pedestrians, I realized. They were standing in line--and I had cut to the front.
I apologized, waved, and left. It would have been hugely presumptuous--cruel, in fact--to offer money for food when these people had to stand in line for hours just to get soup. I had a canteen of iodized water, and I had a car where I could sleep, if need be. I headed on toward the coast.
Cuba has an Everglades. I had to drive through burning sugarcane fields to get to the western boundary of it, but it was there. Beyond the village of Héctor Molina, not far from the Caribbean Sea, the blackened miles of agroindustry ended abruptly, abutting a lowland dike and road where the sawgrass began.
It was a relief to be in sawgrass. Unlike the cane fields, the sawgrass wasn't ablaze. It moved like wheat in the wind, carrying the familiar odors of muck and fresh water and cypress. More than once I stopped just to get out and feel the wind. On a tree, I found a Liguus snail, a kind of tree snail common in the Florida Everglades. It was yellow and white, beautifully banded. I watched four ibis flush from the grass, and hoped to see egrets and herons as well. But there were none. The only other birds I saw were two black vultures coasting on high thermals. Nothing else.
Even so, it was good to be away from the sugarcane. At one point on my route, the flames had blazed so close that heat radiated through the car, and I had floored the accelerator in panic even though I was unable to see because of the smoke. I was already dreading the trip back.
I had no idea how great an area the sawgrass covered. The Zapata Peninsula, at one point, stretches more than 60 miles. In the far distance I could see a rind of tree canopy, nothing more. Perhaps the best way to get to the interior of the swamp was to find a boat and explore up one of the mangrove creeks that this Everglades must certainly feed.
I drove on south to the coastal village of Playa del Caimito. It was a pretty place: whitewashed shacks with thatch roofs on a shoal-water bay. I parked the car, and a group of shy men materialized around me. I asked them about hiring one of the three small boats tied to the mangroves. No, it was impossible, they said. They did not have the authority, and besides, there was no fuel.
Who did have the authority? I wanted to know.
The men shrugged, clearly hoping that I wouldn't press it. I didn't. We stood around talking about fish and fishing. Yes, there had once been bonefish in the area, but no longer. There had been permit, too--but no longer. I didn't have to ask why. Stretching out from the shore were stop nets, fish traps hundreds of yards long. After generations of this, the village had been reduced to eating mostly salted shark meat, which lay on tables nearby, drying in the sun.
I didn't spend a lot of time in the village. I had brought a bunch of Little League uniforms and baseball equipment to give to children along the way, but I decided to leave the whole box in Playa del Caimito. While the women distributed the gear, I pulled out my map and asked one of the men about the size of the swamp that was his backyard. As always, the map framed confusion--apparently nothing blurs the world like the imperatives of subsistence. "ÁQuién sabe?" the man said finally. "Who knows?

lowercased:
land, sea, or air, 90 miles is 90 miles, except when describing the water space between havana and key west, a distance protracted by a generation of despair. lately, men and women have taken to launching inner tubes beyond the landfall beacon off morro castle and paddling north. crossing the florida straits in a cruiser is one thing, but attempting it in a rubber doughnut, one's legs poking through the bright skin of the abyss, is a whole different proposition. in cuba, desperation frames crazy optimism, or there is no optimism at all.
from my room on the seventh floor of the hotel nacional, i could look down on the malecón, the avenue that traces havana's waterfront. beyond the flow of bicycles, pedestrians, and a few old cars, there was the sea, inflated with gray light. a streak of indigo marks the edge of the gulf stream--it sweeps in close to havana harbor--and there were men fishing the rim of it, as if fishing the bank of a river. there was no fuel for boats, so they floated out in inner tubes. except in the tourist hotels there was very little food, so they fished. but there weren't many fish. a few weeks of living like that, and even i--not the bravest of men--would consider worming into an inner tube and paddling north toward duval street.
sometimes distance has resonance. maps are deceptive.
here's what happened on my first attempt to drive there: i landed at josé martí international airport in the late afternoon and stopped at the government's reception booth, where i bought two pretty good maps. the workers there wanted to know if i needed a hotel in downtown havana, 20 minutes away. perhaps they could also arrange a tour for me?
no, i told them, i only needed a car. there were still a couple of hours of daylight left. i figured i could make it most of the way to the zapata peninsula by sunset. besides, i had been to havana in 1977 on a scuba trip to the isle of pines, then again in 1980 during the mariel boat lift, when 120,000 cubans fled the country. there were things i liked about havana, but a city is a city, whereas a swamp is a good place to spend time.
the workers puzzled over my open maps. i am often disoriented when traveling and so tend to trust the advice of others. but these ladies seemed disoriented, too. i pointed to the village of playa larga, 112 miles southeast of havana, on the bay of pigs at the eastern fringe of the zapata peninsula.
impossible, said one of the workers. there was no place to stay at playa larga.
i pointed to playa del caimito, on the western fringe.
no place to stay there, either. wouldn't it be better if they booked a tour for me to another area? that way i could stay at a nice hotel in havana and ride the tour buses each day.
the harder they pushed for havana, the more determined i was to avoid it. i didn't need a hotel, and i could provision myself from the small villages through which i passed--that was possible, wasn't it?
the workers still seemed disoriented, peering at the map from odd angles. perhaps, they said.
the cuban car-rental agency was in a building the size of a small shed. it was a popular place with the locals because it had air-conditioning. i attempted to negotiate for a car amid the noise and cigarette smoke. the man in charge was pleasant, but there was no negotiating: $53 a day for a small nissan, 60 free miles, 50 cents a mile after that. expensive, but there were no alternatives. the price, fixed by the government, would be the same no matter where i tried. the idlers inside watched me sign the contract. among them was a prostitute named evelina, a girl of about 19 who shadowed every move i made. she wore a red blouse and green spandex shorts. her face was very pretty; everything else about her was old. when i ducked under the hood to check the car's oil, evelina ducked with me. when i checked the spare tire in the trunk, she checked, too. i began to worry that evelina came with the car, hired through a clause somewhere in the contract's fine print. she kept asking for a ride. when i said i was not going to havana, she took the map and studied the marks i had made on it. her expression was a mixture of fascination and confusion, a reaction parroted by every cuban of whom i asked directions. no one seemed to know where he was. the map showed a world that was too big.
i left evelina standing on the curb, her face floating in the rearview mirror. i drove out into the late-afternoon bicycle traffic--cuba is now a bicycle society and in this way resembles asia. it is a wonderful feeling to be underway in an unfamiliar country, alone and on the move, and i would have felt great but for one thing: my car had no gas. i had paid $5 for five liters, slightly more than a gallon, at the agency, but the gauge read below empty.
i stopped at the first service station. it was closed. so was the second. the third had an attendant, but no gas. same at the fourth. by now i was miles from the rental agency and facing the possibility--the probability, really--that i would have to push my $53-a-day car to zapata.
i headed back to the rental agency, coasting when i could. i got my money back. evelina seemed happy to see me, but not surprised. i left her and the rental car, and took a cab into havana.
it's illegal for a u.s. citizen to spend money in cuba unless he is a journalist or has relatives living there and gets a special dispensation from the u.s. treasury department. i had flown in on one of the common illegal routes, a cubana airlines flight from nassau, but i was a journalist. and i was certainly spending money. a night in a simple room at the hotel nacional, the old meyer lansky brothel, cost $190, so it was while looking for a cheaper place that i met monroe.
monroe was a canadian, a veteran, and a lawyer--an outlandish trinity that complemented his outlandish personality. though a small man, he cut a swath in his white sportcoat, slicked-back hair, and neatly trimmed cesar romero mustache. when he walked, he sometimes limped. ("an old war wound," he said.) he was always firing off faxes. ("the damn publisher keeps asking for my book!") he smoked cohiba cigars but preferred the trinidads that he said were given to him by castro himself. for the last year he had spent every other month in havana, making business connections in preparation for the switch to free enterprise that he said was inevitable.
"it can't go on like this," he said to me. "and when it changes, i'll be ready and waiting. the money will flood in. i'll buy a mansion east of town, hire some servants, and winter here."
when monroe was not hurrying off to meetings with high government officials, he could usually be found in the patio bar of the havana libre hotel, entertaining cuban foreign ministers or ogling the prostitutes that swarmed the place. monroe was at ease with the dignitaries, but the prostitutes troubled him. late one night he said, "i haven't been with one of those girls. you won't catch me paying 20 bucks and sneaking out to the swimming pool! i have a fiancée, for god's sake!" it was less a statement than a proclamation. he seemed to be trying to convince himself.
i don't know how much of what monroe told me was true, but i liked him. he was smart, savvy, and i recognized his affectations and talking jags for what they were: the guy was homesick, hotel-weary, and half crazy from living as an expatriate in havana--though it was certainly better to live in havana as an expatriate than as a citizen. for us there was at least food to buy. monroe knew the few bars and restaurants that were still open--all tourist places--and everyone at the bars and restaurants knew him. at la floridita, a bronze bust of ernest hemingway watched us drink daiquiris. at la bodeguita del medio, we ate black beans and chewed the fresh mint leaves in our mojitos. outside, the children begged for coins, the men begged us to buy black-market cigars, and the women winked and pressed their breasts against our arms.
monroe would say, "this city is part museum, part whore. don't the collapsed buildings remind you of dresden? but all i have to do is stick it out. do my work and keep to my routine. a month, after all, isn't very long. havana is going to boom again, and when it does, i'll be rich."
monroe, like everyone else in havana, was waiting for something.
one night i met carlos calvo, who claimed to be a right fielder on the national baseball team, and he invited me to his practice the next day. i took a cab to the sports center, the ciudad deportiva, where carlos met me, explaining that his team hadn't shown up, that practice had apparently been canceled. he shrugged, adding, "this is cuba. who can say why?" instead, the two of us sat and watched tryouts for the national 15- and 16-year-olds team: 30 skinny kids dressed in rags, no spikes, hitting without helmets, sharing their cheap batos ball gloves, but playing like i have never seen kids play before. it wasn't so much the skill--though they certainly had skill--as it was the passion with which they played, a kind of controlled frenzy that made their otherwise aggressive coaches appear meek in comparison.
carlos was unimpressed. perhaps that kind of fervor was common in cuban ballparks. or perhaps one of these kids would someday try to take his job, so carlos chose not to acknowledge them. he seemed more concerned with the condition of the field. the diamond was pitted with holes; weeds were knee-high in the outfield. "they used to mow it," he told me more than once. "i don't know why they don't mow it now."
that night, i found monroe at his table in the patio bar. he was drinking daiquiris, which was unusual. monroe drank very little, and never at night. it wasn't part of his routine. i joined him for a round, and he told me about his business dealings that day. then, as i rose to leave, he said, "i never do this, but one more daiquiri and i'll be drunk--over the line." naturally, i told the waiter to bring monroe one more daiquiri before i headed off to bed.
at first light i was awakened by pounding at my door. it was a haggard, wild-eyed monroe. "where were you when i needed you?" he rasped. "i was almost killed last night. electrocuted!"
i tried to calm him. he sat and explained that he had gotten very drunk and stumbled off past the hotel pool in search of a place to urinate and had brushed into some bare electrical wires. he showed me two black burns on his forearm that looked more like a vampire bite. the shock had knocked him unconscious, he said, but luckily one of the staff had found him and managed to revive him.
"i banged and banged on your door," he said. "i was having trouble breathing. i needed help, and the hospitals here are worthless!"
i hadn't heard any banging. and i was suspicious of monroe's strange story. why had he wandered outside to whiz when the hotel's restrooms were inside? i suggested he show me the bare electrical wires. he was reluctant, but i pressed the issue. we took the elevator to the pool, and i followed monroe to a wooden gate.
the gate led to a cramped space, not more than a yard wide, behind a row of cabanas. there were water pipes and a jumble of spliced electrical wires. but for monroe to have touched the wires with his forearm, he would have had to be lying down or kneeling.
i looked from the wires to monroe. monroe looked at the ground. "i know," he said finally. "i know." he sounded exhausted, deflated. "i shouldn't have lied to you, and i shouldn't have done it. but she was so beautiful. you've seen those girls in the bar. my god! and how many months have i been fighting it?"
it must have been an astonishing event: coition interrupted by a jolt of electricity and a shower of sparks. i found it hilarious--hilarious in a way that squeezes the heart--but monroe would not be consoled. "i swore i'd never do anything like that," he moaned. "i'm here strictly on business. i have a routine! but this damn city does something to you. believe me, randy, it's this damn city!"
i had not given up on looking for the cuban everglades. i spent time talking to people in the bookstores near the university of havana. it was extraordinary how little they knew of regions outside the city. i might as well have been asking them about the dark side of the moon. i did learn that there was a small resort on the bay of pigs at playa larga, but it was closed. "broken," i was told. the hotel at mariel harbor was "broken," too, as were several others. i got the impression that the cuban government was funneling its shrinking food supply into only the most expensive and popular resorts, and closing the rest.
even so, when i finally did find a place to buy gas, i rented a daihatsu, spent $47 to fill its small tank, and headed southeast on a-1, the country's main highway. i had slept in cars before, and i could provision along the way. anything to get out of havana.
i drove carefully, dodging russian-made ladas, bicycles, and a few donkey carts. if nothing else, cuba is a great place to drive a car. the macadam roads are wide and fast. soon the traffic disappeared; the city blurred, thinned, and finally vanished behind me. in the next hours i would see maybe two dozen cars on that six-lane highway, most of them 1950ish chevys, though there were a few old mercedeses and a tired ford, too. the chevys were cheerful things to see, for they were brightly painted and their mirrors were decorated as if to celebrate a religious holiday. i always waved at their drivers as i passed; they always smiled and waved back.
on my trip in 1977, i had visited a few rural areas, and i was eager to get into the country again. at that time, in cuba as in central america, it was accepted behavior to stop at a house and offer money in exchange for a meal. though very poor, the people usually had beans and fresh fish or turtle meat to spare and were glad for the cash and, perhaps, the company. in the early afternoon i decided to find a village and see about lunch. the map showed that i was near güines, a dot off the main highway, so i turned south and banged my way along five miles of sugarcane until i came to a settlement of houses on a dirt road. the settlement was dominated by a packing plant made of corrugated metal. two soldiers stood by the closed gate at the entrance. i asked them about a place to eat. there was none, they said. down the road, an old man sitting in the shade suggested that i knock at the door of a building beside the factory. i knocked. the door opened a crack. the woman peering through told me she had no food. the door closed again.
i decided to try another village. compared to güines, san nicolás was a metropolis. there were a few buildings of marble and coral. judging from the rows of old houses and the sidewalk crowded with pedestrians, i guessed that it was home to perhaps 10,000 souls. there was what seemed to be a restaurant: an open place with tile floors and crowded tables. i went to the counter, smiling at the people who gawked at me. no tourist buses came to san nicolás. my car was an oddity; i was a curiosity. an old woman stood at my elbow, staring so intensely that she seemed to doubt that i was real. i ordered food and a cold beer, then wondered why the woman behind the counter reacted with embarrassment. for the first time, i noticed what was on the tables of this crowded place: nothing.
"in the evening, we will have soup," the woman told me. "only soup. but you must wait with the others."
the people outside weren't pedestrians, i realized. they were standing in line--and i had cut to the front.
i apologized, waved, and left. it would have been hugely presumptuous--cruel, in fact--to offer money for food when these people had to stand in line for hours just to get soup. i had a canteen of iodized water, and i had a car where i could sleep, if need be. i headed on toward the coast.
cuba has an everglades. i had to drive through burning sugarcane fields to get to the western boundary of it, but it was there. beyond the village of héctor molina, not far from the caribbean sea, the blackened miles of agroindustry ended abruptly, abutting a lowland dike and road where the sawgrass began.
it was a relief to be in sawgrass. unlike the cane fields, the sawgrass wasn't ablaze. it moved like wheat in the wind, carrying the familiar odors of muck and fresh water and cypress. more than once i stopped just to get out and feel the wind. on a tree, i found a liguus snail, a kind of tree snail common in the florida everglades. it was yellow and white, beautifully banded. i watched four ibis flush from the grass, and hoped to see egrets and herons as well. but there were none. the only other birds i saw were two black vultures coasting on high thermals. nothing else.
even so, it was good to be away from the sugarcane. at one point on my route, the flames had blazed so close that heat radiated through the car, and i had floored the accelerator in panic even though i was unable to see because of the smoke. i was already dreading the trip back.
i had no idea how great an area the sawgrass covered. the zapata peninsula, at one point, stretches more than 60 miles. in the far distance i could see a rind of tree canopy, nothing more. perhaps the best way to get to the interior of the swamp was to find a boat and explore up one of the mangrove creeks that this everglades must certainly feed.
i drove on south to the coastal village of playa del caimito. it was a pretty place: whitewashed shacks with thatch roofs on a shoal-water bay. i parked the car, and a group of shy men materialized around me. i asked them about hiring one of the three small boats tied to the mangroves. no, it was impossible, they said. they did not have the authority, and besides, there was no fuel.
who did have the authority? i wanted to know.
the men shrugged, clearly hoping that i wouldn't press it. i didn't. we stood around talking about fish and fishing. yes, there had once been bonefish in the area, but no longer. there had been permit, too--but no longer. i didn't have to ask why. stretching out from the shore were stop nets, fish traps hundreds of yards long. after generations of this, the village had been reduced to eating mostly salted shark meat, which lay on tables nearby, drying in the sun.
i didn't spend a lot of time in the village. i had brought a bunch of little league uniforms and baseball equipment to give to children along the way, but i decided to leave the whole box in playa del caimito. while the women distributed the gear, i pulled out my map and asked one of the men about the size of the swamp that was his backyard. as always, the map framed confusion--apparently nothing blurs the world like the imperatives of subsistence. "áquién sabe?" the man said finally. "who knows?


Motorola v3x Series Service Manual.pdf Level 1 and 2 Service Manual 6809497A15-A V3x Digital Wireless Telephone UMTS 2100, GSM 900/1800/1900 GPRS Level 1 and 2 Service Manual 1 and 2 V3x 6809497A15-A Contents Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 Product Identification . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 Product Names . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 Product Changes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 Regulatory Agency Compliance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 Computer Program Copyrights . . . . . .
10-02-2011 Ghostofmav 10 Full service manual without the circuit diagrams. Proper instructions about disassembly.


text:
Established in 2014, Virginia Grind is a single grade level Boys AAU, AYBA, and YBOA-affiliated basketball club (c/o 2021) located in Prince William County, VA. The GRIND was created to provide players from Prince William County an opportunity to develop their skills, learn the fundamentals of team basketball and compete at the highest level of youth basketball locally and nationally.
©2019 Virginia Grind Elite / SportsEngine. All Rights Reserved.

lowercased:
established in 2014, virginia grind is a single grade level boys aau, ayba, and yboa-affiliated basketball club (c/o 2021) located in prince william county, va. the grind was created to provide players from prince william county an opportunity to develop their skills, learn the fundamentals of team basketball and compete at the highest level of youth basketball locally and nationally.
©2019 virginia grind elite / sportsengine. all rights reserved.


text:
S. pale lemon-yellow, green midrib and veins, dark green base; style arms pale lemon-yellow; F. white, canary-yellow spot flushed pale red; beard hairs based lavender, tips mustard; slight sweet fragrance.
Sdlg. 06ESes01: Earth and Sky X self.
Intriguing coloration, very bright in the early spring garden.

lowercased:
s. pale lemon-yellow, green midrib and veins, dark green base; style arms pale lemon-yellow; f. white, canary-yellow spot flushed pale red; beard hairs based lavender, tips mustard; slight sweet fragrance.
sdlg. 06eses01: earth and sky x self.
intriguing coloration, very bright in the early spring garden.