Kara and I finally made our first foray over toward the “big city”—Southern gem, Savannah. We went to a little island on the coast, and it was everything I’d hoped. Spanish moss everywhere, huge arching bridges across salt marshes, constant fresh breeze. Real maritime forest that makes you think you’re somewhere just plain different. And don’t forget the little fiddler crabs everywhere! My heart almost stopped the first time I saw one scuttling along on the periphery of my vision. It was about the size of the little frogs I’d see when I would go hiking in the mountains, but the movement was just wrong. My visceral reaction was to freeze before whatever mutated bug I saw moving came and ate me.
We had such a wonderful time, but we got so close to the ocean without seeing that vast expanse of ocean—nothing between you and the horizon, and waves and sand and everything the “ocean” should mean—without actually seeing it, I decided that we simply had to go to the beach this weekend.
The weather cooperated beautifully. It was sunny and wonderful. Kara chased seagulls and ran across the beach and splashed in tide pools. She dug holes in the sand and filled them with water. She jumped over waves and rode the swells. It. was. perfect.
It was a little chilly, though, especially for my small one. She loved it so much that, even though she was shivering in the water so violently I think she was making waves of her own, every time we asked her if she was ready to leave she’d say “no.” We finally had to make the executive decision to leave, but just as we were about to leave, we saw a dolphin!
She napped on the way home, and the rest of the day was filled with rich, heavy food, lots of TV watching and computer games, and gorging on cookie dough. A better end to the week could not be imagined.