Island Life, For a Week

Astonishingly, we have taken a whopping three vacations this year!!  How spoiled are we?  I don't think I've ever taken three actual vacations in one year in my life, but somehow we managed to pull it off.  In my mind, these trips are not for me.  They're for Samantha.  I want so badly to continue to create bold, happy childhood memories for her, like the ones I had at her age.  I want to start to create traditions.  Patterns.  Those are the stuff of permanent recollection, of joyous reflection.  And photos certainly help to cement those memories, digitally creating a more vivid, lasting picture, certainly, than I ever had as a child.

Last week we drove down to St. Simons Island, Georgia for the 2nd year in a row.  My cousin, again, generously offered up his house there for us to use, and Samantha remembered it from before.  In going with tradition and consistency, I love the fact that for both of our beach vacations this summer, we've stayed in places that were already familiar to Sammi.  And, of course, I love even more the fact that we can stay somewhere that we don't have to pay for and can drive to...  Gas and food costs were the only expenses, thankfully, as they were certainly high enough.

Sammi is a real beach freak.  Give her an ocean and a vast sea of wet sand to dig and she's totally in her element.  We spent 4 days actually on the beach, discovering that 9am is the absolutely best time to hit the shore, before the thick blast of heat and humidity, before the crowds, before the swift afternoon thunderstorms roll in.  The rest of the time was spent bathing and showering (that's the one thing I really dislike about the beach - the way the sand and the salt just stick to you, covering every inch of your body, making the desperate run to wash it all off a race against the clock and against the others jockeying to reach the shower before you), exploring the island and environs, absorbing the vast and ancient history around us, and watching the Olympics.  The history of that part of the country is fascinating.  I won't go into any detail now, but it spans from original Native American settlements, through the early British colonies, Spanish settlements, the Revolutionary War, slavery, the Civil War, and so, so much more...  Just...amazing.  There's a real mystical feel to the island, its winding avenues so heavily canopied by stately old oak trees, Spanish moss draped across the branches like a dark, green waterfall.  You can really begin to imagine what life may have been like there hundreds of years ago.  The next time we visit Samantha should be old enough to explore a bit more with us, to tolerate a bit of additional sight-seeing, not her current forte.  There's so much more to learn.

And now, some photos of the Butterfly and her daddy, on the Island pier where we stopped to watch men, women and children cast their fishing lines into the water below, pulling up all manner of sea life.  I hate the idea of fishing, knowing that these beautiful living, breathing creatures are about to meet their maker, and perhaps not always in the nicest of ways, but I also know that it's a way of life, part of the full-circle, survival of the fittest, reality.  And I am at peace with that.  You just won't catch me with a fishing rod in my hand...