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Randy Wayne White: Words for a winter day

February 23, 2008

As I took my time running back to Dinkin’s Bay, the first smear of daylight hung foglike over Sulphur Wells … then expanded out of the Pine Island tree line; a stratum of gray membrane that, gradually, was streaked with conch pink and violet. Somewhere – over Bimini, maybe; someplace in the Bahamas chain – the sun was wheeling hard around he rim of earth, moving incrementally across the Gulf Stream toward Florida.

From Captiva, Randy Wayne White.

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My good friends Ken and Mel were the first to wholeheartedly encourage me to move down to Florida years ago. I believe Mel’s exact words were, “What the hell are you waiting for? Get down there!” <>Today Ken and Mel live in Sarasota. Their son – who I remember as a baby once upon a time – is now a student at the University across state. Time flies rapidly.

Ken recommended the riotorious writings of Carl Hiaasen and got me hooked on that author. He even gave me an autographed copy of one of Hiaasen’s books, enscribed “To Steve; don’t come down here. Just kidding. Carl Hiaasen.” If you know the writer’s opinion on the influx of northerners in Florida, you’d understand.Recently Ken got me reading Randy Wayne White. White is a veteran fishing guide and accomplished author of both fiction and non-fiction. His characters got my attention and before I knew it, I was hooked – no pun intended.

The paragraph from Captiva (above) got my attention while I was trapped inside on a freezing day after a winter ice storm.

Reading his novels about intrigue and mystery on the Gulf Coast was a good way to spend the time while trapped by the ice and snow out in the country. His characters catch your interest and the plots are facinating.

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