this is a page for
Browsing Tag: #beach
It’s time to tell the terrible awful thing I did. Or, at least, the last terrible awful thing I did. I’m a seashell collector. I always have been. I try to be selective on what I keep, because I’m limited on space after all these years. I put them in apothecary jars with sand and they are displayed in my bedroom and my library. I think they’re beautiful and it makes me smile when I look at them, remembering each trip. The photo at the top shows a mushroom that washed up. I also found cauliflower and broccoli that morning in St. Augustine. I got kind of excited about the mushroom, I thought it was really something unique. I also have a knack for grabbing up shells with wild things still in them. This last trip was no different. I think I found most of Outer Banks population of hermit crabs. I check my shells thoroughly because I don’t want to kill any creatures just so I can have a pretty shell to display, but also, I don’t want to smell rotting varmint for two weeks as it dries out. It does get depressing, though, finding all these perfect shells only to have to toss them back. So anyway, I had collected a few one day and had the majority of them spread on the porch railing to dissipate the ocean smell. I had brought a few into…
Get comfy. I’m a travelin’ son of a gun. This could also be a compilation of all my sunburns. I think I get a sunburn everywhere I go. I have never understood people who take the same vacation year after year. There are 3,797,000 square miles in America. Better hurry. Of course when I started this, I was just remembering all the big, noteworthy trips. The more I wrote, the more I remembered. #1) Charleston, West Virginia. Saw the capital. Not sure why we were there. I remember the tolls. I went with my Grandmother, mom, and I think maybe Aunt Bren. #2) Nashville TN. Many times. Various reasons. Rode out there and back with Meg one evening to get a pair of blue jeans. Everybody said we were crazy. They weren’t wrong. Many, many trips for the Co-op for buying shows and conferences. Skeeter took me just to occupy my mind one May Day in 2001 🙂 40th birthday party for Lisa at the Opryland Hotel was a crap ton of fun. Last trip was the best one, though- brewery bounce with my bestie 🙂 #3) Akron, Ohio. Believe it or not, I have relatives in Yankeeland. Saw the Goodyear plant, where my great-grandfather once worked and his brother still did at the time (late 80’s). Jumped into the most perfectly made-up beautiful four poster bed of all time, embarrassing my mom & grandmother to no end. I’…
Sharkbait! Ooh-ha-ha! I’m the first to admit I would just as soon my death be delivered via shark bite than a car wreck or cancer. My friends say I’m crazy. But think- how cool would it be for y’all to say, “I know a girl who got eat by a shark.” And you would relish in it. The chances are pretty good it could happen, too. My preferred depth of swimming in the ocean is shoulders deep, because that’s right before where the waves break and I don’t have to get beat up by them. I like to be able to bounce off the sandy bottom when one is rolling in and then be able to stand flat footed the rest of the time. Evidently this is the prime feeding area for sharks. I also like to swim late in the day when the sun isn’t so intense. I’m sure it would be completely terrifying. And it might hurt if he doesn’t hit a major artery first thing. But what’s worse- the terror of being trapped in your car and being cut out while everybody stares or being eaten by a magnificent creature? Slowly wasting away, getting weaker and sicker every day and everybody forcing you to fight it when you just don’t have any more fight in you? Watching their eyes go all liquid and…
I realize the picture is a wee bit weird, but I admire the symmetry. Here’s the thing about the ocean: It’s weird. There’s slime, and seaweed, and sticks, and fish that nibble at your toes. Not to mention all manner of man-made trash that washes up. The difference is, in the Gulf you can actually SEE what’s touching you, rubbing against your leg. Whereas in the Atlantic, you just visualise the worst & hope that if it is death coming for you, he’ll make it snappy. I had seaweed & God-knows-what-else tangled in my hair every day this week, but I just pretended I was a mermaid & went on. The waves knocked me down, flipped me upside down, drove me to my knees and skidded my elbows across the gritty sand. I got back up for more, pushing my seaweed infested hair out of my eyes, snorting and snotting from the salt in my eyes and up my nose, making them water and burn. It was a constant struggle against the current, fighting the waves crashing into me. They fizzle out but there’s more behind it. Sure, you can stay in the shallows where the danger is minimal, but why would you want to? Where’s the fun & adventure in that? It’s a battle I will never win, me against the pull of the moon. Something drives…
