Just Peaceful, Just Birds, Just a New Year – Redux
Perhaps our celebration of each new year is a collective symbol of hopefulness, the idea that we can change, evolve and improve.
Perhaps our celebration of each new year is a collective symbol of hopefulness, the idea that we can change, evolve and improve.
Feeding seagulls and feasting our eyes on pastel sunsets in late December light is soul-nourishing.
An open reflection in prose form on the hopefulness factor of celebrating the new year, illustrated by numerous species of shorebirds with a seemingly collective sense of peace and purpose.
The sky in Bay St. Louis is luminous, intoxicating, and just can’t take a bad photo, so I wrote a haiku to honor it.
A family of geese came and went, causing us to worry about predators: gators and eagles and hawks, oh my!
Crabs caught just off our dock at Gumbo Cove were perfectly satisfying and reminiscent of my childhood at the beach in Gilchrist, TX.
The Grill-Meister and I celebrated Valentine’s of 2020 at Field’s restaurant in Bay St. Louis; we’re reliving the memory with the photos.
We’re all waiting for the day when friends can once again be greeted with a bear hug.
When a hurricane storm surge happens at Gumbo Cove, the water roars in from the Gulf and goes back out eventually, but leaves behind an unwelcome calling card: canal mud.
Trucks, big, strong, sturdy, beautiful trucks, barrelling down the highway in a convoy, filled with workers loaded for bear and ready to slay the dragons of downed power lines to bring the lights back on for the people.
Cicadas and air conditioners are the soundtrack of warm summer evenings as the indigo sky darkens on another day.
The strawberry lemonade from Mockingbird Cafe is a drink that instantly transports you back to childhood summers, all reminiscent of church picnics, sunburns and innocence.
A few random things as we batten down the hatches before Cristobal comes to visit.
The grocery store had everything we needed, plus a coastal-Mississippi-right-before-Mardi-Gras culinary cultural tour.
Seagulls and brown pelicans in Bay St. Louis give me a lesson in mindfulness reminiscent of Thoreau’s experience at Walden
A seafood boil is a communal experience, something you eat with your hands, get all over your face and don’t regret a messy morsel of.
The bike was poised and ready to go, an analog transporter waiting in the Gulf Coast sun to take someone somewhere.
Bay St. Louis has sun, sand, sea and serenity galore. It was everything we thought it would be, and more.
