Down by the coast time

I was born down by the coast... and there's something there that feels so right.

Sometimes, I don't get down there as often as I'd like, and this has been one of those years.

Sometimes, life in general gets in the way...

 But when I do get there, I soak in enough salt and sand and sea breeze to see me through the days until I return. 

Fall is showing itself at the coast as well.  Golden sea oats rustle in the stiff breeze in advance of a storm.

We spent the evening, making pizza and laughing and talking together.
We awakened to the sound of the late season baby egrets and ibis squawking and the seagulls shrill cry.

We walked on the beach and swam and got sand between our toes.

I watched the dolphins play in the surf, just out of reach, dark pewter gray against the ocean's silver and white.  Silky and smooth, they swim like grace in aquatic form.

It seems like just yesterday we built the house by the ocean.

 I was pregnant with a little lad, who has now grown old enough to share a beach walk with a young lady.

The palmetto tree hangs full of ripening drupes and the salt marsh grass begins to turn from darkest green to a lighter chartreuse in advance of true autumn's golden tan.  The drive out past the farm stands nets us sun-ripened tomatoes and small squashes and peppers of every shade.  Late melons and early sweet potatoes and my usual blessing from the sweet lady who runs my favorite roadside stop.

Knitting a warm and cozy hat for a special girl in a beautiful shade of  'Kelsey' green on the return ride warms my hands and bids me turn my face toward home.  A month to come filled with a final season of band competitions and autumn on the farm beckons.

My spirit is filled from my prayerful meditation by the sea and will tide me over until I return.