In the not too distant future I will be leaving this somewhat uncomfortable desk chair for a portable beach chair that I will place on the top of a sandy bluff, complete with ocean view. This will be where I drink the coffee my husband will make using the Coleman camp stove in the confines of the screen house which will be our home away from home. To sleep, we will walk carefully so as not to step on a cactus or sand bur the short distance to our tent. I will say, "Oh, let's leave the rain fly off," and he will say, "There is rain in the forecast and I don't want to have to get up in the middle of the night to put the fly on," and I will say, "I'll do it," and he will say, "Ok," and we will both know that when it rains in the middle of the night he will be the one getting up.
After reading, drinking coffee and not having to do anything, we will make our way down to the water's edge and try to determine how close to set up our beach tent so that when the tide comes in, we will not be washed away. This requires some thought because we may just read until we fall asleep and then wake suddenly to find ourselves scrambling to save our books.
We will splash in the water from time to time and walk along the shore. We will watch the little burrowing creatures hide themselves every time a wave carries them in. We will reflect sadly on how we have a difficult time seeing sand crabs as there are not nearly as many as there once were before vehicles were allowed to drive on the beach, and though there are roped off sections for nesting sea turtles, we wonder how they are able to survive as well in this place we are all trying to share.
When we first came to the Outer Banks almost 20 years ago, the island of Hatteras was less developed and the beach near the federal campground at Frisco felt more wild. For several years a man we called "the naked man," for obvious reasons, used to walk the beach as though nothing were unusual about his lack of attire. We would see women sunbathing topless and thought this was all pretty exotic for North Carolina. When the boys were small we let them run around in their birthday suits as well. Life at the beach goes at its own pace and has its own rules.
At dusk I will breathe a sigh of relief having made it through another day of being overly exposed to the sun's intense rays and will wash the layers of sun screen off my reddened, freckled self in the cold showers with the rope one pulls for the water to come down. I never even mind the brightly colored tree frogs who shower with me. It is all part of the experience.
After a dinner that always tastes better eaten outside, especially when we go to the local dock and buy something that was caught just hours before, we will then walk back up to our chairs and watch in awe at the expanse of stars that will get brighter with each passing hour. The Milky Way is even visible. We will watch shooting stars, see satellites and try to identify constellations. The Cape Hatteras Lighthouse light will shine its rhythmic pattern over the dunes as the sea oats wave in the breeze that will pick up sending the mosquitos away.
It is at times like these when there is no need for any technology more sophisticated than a bottle opener and a knife to cut the limes.
After reading, drinking coffee and not having to do anything, we will make our way down to the water's edge and try to determine how close to set up our beach tent so that when the tide comes in, we will not be washed away. This requires some thought because we may just read until we fall asleep and then wake suddenly to find ourselves scrambling to save our books.
We will splash in the water from time to time and walk along the shore. We will watch the little burrowing creatures hide themselves every time a wave carries them in. We will reflect sadly on how we have a difficult time seeing sand crabs as there are not nearly as many as there once were before vehicles were allowed to drive on the beach, and though there are roped off sections for nesting sea turtles, we wonder how they are able to survive as well in this place we are all trying to share.
When we first came to the Outer Banks almost 20 years ago, the island of Hatteras was less developed and the beach near the federal campground at Frisco felt more wild. For several years a man we called "the naked man," for obvious reasons, used to walk the beach as though nothing were unusual about his lack of attire. We would see women sunbathing topless and thought this was all pretty exotic for North Carolina. When the boys were small we let them run around in their birthday suits as well. Life at the beach goes at its own pace and has its own rules.
At dusk I will breathe a sigh of relief having made it through another day of being overly exposed to the sun's intense rays and will wash the layers of sun screen off my reddened, freckled self in the cold showers with the rope one pulls for the water to come down. I never even mind the brightly colored tree frogs who shower with me. It is all part of the experience.
After a dinner that always tastes better eaten outside, especially when we go to the local dock and buy something that was caught just hours before, we will then walk back up to our chairs and watch in awe at the expanse of stars that will get brighter with each passing hour. The Milky Way is even visible. We will watch shooting stars, see satellites and try to identify constellations. The Cape Hatteras Lighthouse light will shine its rhythmic pattern over the dunes as the sea oats wave in the breeze that will pick up sending the mosquitos away.
It is at times like these when there is no need for any technology more sophisticated than a bottle opener and a knife to cut the limes.
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