This puts a lot of people who are self-employed out of work and me and my group into work over-drive to try to ameliorate the situation. We work with other groups to corral resources for survival (food, shelter, power) and to help the affected people make the step to "what's next." We set up training programs to help them make the bridge and to have some money in pockets in the meantime.
It is stressful as hell for all concerned.
Butterflies are everywhere now, mostly Monarchs, and there are areas planted in Apalach designed to provide sustenance for them on their trip. If you look carefull above, you'll see an orange and black Monarch having a snack in a clump of lantana.
I spend about 40 minutes of my drive to Franklin County running parallel to the Gulf Of Mexico. This is what it looks like on a pretty October day.
This is the front entrance to the Coombs House Inn B&B, the place I stay when I am in Apalach overnight. The picture is sideways because the computer hates me.
Stair case at Coombs House. Also fucking sideways. The wood is black cyprus and used throughout the house.
The groundfloor is dark and cool - large windows shaded by large trees. The upstairs has a wrap-around veranda and all of the rooms have doors leading out.
This is a very small town in a low-population county -- around 11,000 souls total in the county. After I process this experience a little more I'll write about it. I just wanted thes pictures up.
The butterfly photo is reminiscent of particular moments of heart-lifting. There is a very long bridge connecting Apalachicola and Eastpoint. I had to cross this bridge at least six times last week and every time there were clouds of butterflies clipping their way around the few cars crossing.
Even though Apalach sits right on the Gulf and the Apalachcicola River, I never smelled the things that say "healthy coast" to me - no salt, no fish, no crabby corpses.
There is something wrong.