“What are you doing?”

That was my phone greeting years ago to a then-little granddaughter.

“Nothin’.”

“How can you do nothing? Do you think of something to do, and then not do it?”

“Huh?”

While I don’t recall the rest of that conversation, I remember her claim of doing nothin’.

Last week in Florida, I came close to understanding how one can almost do (to use my granddaughter’s term) nothin’.

Our Georgia friends, Terry and Shirley, shared a beach-side condo with us, and we spent much of our days doing only a bit more than nothing. Rather than time wasted, though, I found the week to have been time well-spent.

From dark to dawn, we exercised each day; that is, we strolled through the sand by the country’s edge and marveled at the sunrise over the Atlantic. What a wonderful way to begin a new day!

The days always included frequent breaks for long moments together at dining tables. We discovered new places to eat and new menu items to try. From varieties of fish to incredible pastry choices, to lasagna pizza, and to ice cream worth the journey, we never missed an opportunity to eat.

Eating was also a topic of conversation as we crossed an expressway bridge over Jessup Lake. Someone said the lake had more alligators than any other in Florida. I gazed through the car’s window and noticed several long rugged backs and ugly snouts.

“Wonder what they eat?”

“Anything they want,” our driver responded. “That’s why you don’t see much fishing or swimming here.”

We weren’t in Florida to fish or swim or wrestle with alligators—that would have been too much of something and we were content to experience close to nothing.

We did meander through a park where we noticed moss in a tree and a manatee in shallow water. We listened to the music of unseen birds and the pleasant chatter of plenty seen visitors to the park.

One afternoon while peacefully lounging on the condo’s balcony, we almost became mesmerized by the various shades of the ocean’s blue. In idle conversation we debated how far away the horizon might be and wondered which European location was directly on the other side. Finally we concluded it was probably 20 miles and Morocco.

Then a sail boat came slowly into view, far from the tides spilling down below. I casually picked up my camera and got a picture through a telephoto lens. I passed the camera to Terry so he could see the digital view. He fiddled with my picture, used an AI program and passed it back.

The original had been slightly modified to resemble a painting like Monet might have made, had he been with us on the balcony. We achieved something quite interesting, and we didn’t have to set up an easel and brush paint onto a canvas—that would have been too much to do for a couple of loafers doing mostly nothin’.

We sometimes read, sometimes watched TV, and sometimes got out and about to an art museum. Mostly we simply exchanged friendly conversation during our time together. It was quite nice to take time off and trust the business of the world to continue while we enjoyed a time of doing nothin’.

For us, it was a week when not much work was accomplished. I did, though, write this article, if that counts.