I Want to be a Southern Belle

Randomly the last few movies I watched have been set in the South, as have the last few books I picked on my kindle.  I don’t know if it’s because of our weather heading into sunshine but lately I’ve been aching for a sultry summer afternoon on the front porch of a big ol’ antebellum home.  The front yard is overgrown with the heady scent of jasmine and magnolia blossoms and the weeping willows provide shade.  I glisten with the ladylike glow of humidity as I drink my sweet tea on the porch swing. . .  maybe with some fresh muddled lime and mint, heck let’s just make it a mojito . . .  I’m thinking deep South:  Louisiana, Georgia, Alabama. 

My first memories are of the lighthouse keeper’s house we lived in on the Florida panhandle.  It's the first house down the beach, to the right of the lens.

  I remember beautiful white sands and blue skies, finding sand dollars on the beach, giant horseshoe crabs and turtle crossing the roads.  I remember the cardboard box car “Herbie the Love Bug” (this was the mid 70’s) that my brother and I used to slide down the stairs as our racetrack.  (Granted, that could’ve happened anywhere, not just the South).

I’m sure I’m romanticizing things; I’m not envisioning the snakes on the neighbor’s porch, the caterpillars that were infested in our walls, or the 300 fire ant bites I received.   In 2006 we brought my Dad’s ashes to his family in Dickinson, on the gulf coast of Texas near Galveston.  It was June, I was a giant sweatball and I was constantly slapping at large mosquitoes.  But, there was that delicious silky feel in the evening air, sultry is the best word I can come up with for it.  Everyone was so friendly and we heard “Yes, Ma’am” and “Yes, Sir” everywhere.  However, I was a white woman visiting in the south.  I’m sure if I had been a minority or if I was living there I might sense an undertone of racism or sexism that isn’t so prevalent in the Pacific Northwest.

Back to my fantasy:   I wander barefoot through the pecan and peach groves that happen to grow in my backyard, selectively picking and eating the ripe juicy fruit off the tree.  Snacking on pecans warmed by the sun I head down to the watering hole to cool off with my trusty lab (sorry Flounder, terrier pugs didn’t seem very southern) whose name is probably Sadie.   When I reach the small stream fed pond I dip my feet in, settle my blanket and pull up out Gone with the Wind on my kindle from my bag.  I stay here reading until the sun starts to set and the crickets and frogs start to chirp and croak.  

Prince Eric strolls down the path, back from a hard day of work supervising the plantation.  He’s carrying a picnic basket that he’s put together and pulls out: Pizza!  Yum, my favorite!

Readers:  what is your favorite book and/or movie that invokes the South to you?

Ocian in View! O! the Joy!

For someone who lives at the edge of the Pacific I feel like I spend very little time on the beach.  When we first planned to move here I envisioned daily strolls and contemplative sojourns on the sands.  Just like all plans, seems like something always come up instead.  Work, softball games, the weather, grocery shopping, household chores . . . .there's always something "more important".

Recently, I had a 6 month job review with my boss and while I like to skip lunch and leave early she stressed that rules require I take a midday break, at least half an hour.  I realized that this is the perfect designated beach time, especially now that the weather is turning to summer.  I work in 4 different offices during the week, all within a short distance to the beach.  Last week I spent 45 minutes of one lunch soaking up the sun, walking in the surf and playing in the sand.  Another day I walked a two-mile trail to the beach that lead to an interpretive boardwalk.  The smell of the salt air, the seagulls squawking, the ocean breeze:  it was wonderful. Being a spur of the moment decision, I wasn't quite dressed for this trek however, and I returned to work happy but sweaty and with blistered toes.

Today, I had my spare pair of tennis shoes, grabbed my sunglasses and walked from my office a quarter mile to the park overlooking the beach.  We're having minus tides and beautiful sunshine and I watched people tide pooling and flying kites.  I am so fortunate to have this wondrous ocean so close and I'm determined to appreciate it more.  My goal:  to tickle my toes in the sand and to dip them in the ocean at least once a week.  I'm required to take this mandatory midday breather, why not enjoy it?