Ocean Idyll

After nine hours in the car I arrived in New Smyrna Beach, Florida. Each moment of the drive was a celebration, crystalline memory material. Overcast skies meant blessed coolness rather than blistering heat.

I had a choice of three routes and decided on the one less travelled. To my delight, what followed were 478 miles of deserted roads mostly lined by forest. I kept the top up against the threatening sky. Only once did it rain.

The column of water was visible a half mile ahead, perfectly framing Hwy 19. I slowed, trepidatious, before passing through the visible wall. For five minutes the wind and rain rocked my Cabrio, then just as abruptly, were gone.

Danielle is out there, churning the waters. The first picture is the surf around 7:00 p.m. Sunday. Courtesy of Hurricane Danielle.

Sets of waves roll in, eager to break then race to catch the one before it. Yesterday I stood in the surf and watched, mesmerized by the constant churning of as many as ten curls in a line, breaking a hundred and more yards out. I hear the riptide is gnarly.

Saturday was the fifth anniversary of Katrina. No hurricanes on my forecast.

When I finally stepped on the beach my feet ahhhh'd. The white powder caressed my soles, fine as ash and as soft. Memories of years gone by raced through my body and gathered, solidified in the present moment.

Ahora. Now.

Then comes the hardpack: cool, damp, loose. Cars are allowed to drive here. I don't like this.

Past that and before the surf is a 20 - 30 foot green zone. Why is it green? Does anybody know?

I watched the clouds bunch and gather in groups, each hanging out with its own kind, forming layers that ripped in places. Patches of blue smiled behind billowing clouds that were backlit by a sun I couldn't see.

A boy, left alone by a father drinking at the Tiki Bar, played in the surf.

I kept an eye on him, unable not to.

A run to the produce market and Publix yielded fruit and a big block of Parmigiano Reggiano, Genoa salami, roasted red peppers, kalamata olives, marinated artichoke hearts, a head of garlic, olive oil and aged balsamic from Italy. And a sour dough baguette. I haven't had sour dough since California.

When at the beach eat fish. And Mediterranean.
Including canoli.

My Bugsy had to stay home. But this is my new buddy, Mage. He lives here at the resort, fed by residents and guests.

Quite striking, isn't he? All kinds of mysteries could be woven around that face and those markings.

Our Wifi extends to the pool. I sat out there last night until it was completely dark except for the pool and deck lights.

Mage patrols. But no one touches the Mage Man.

A light rain falls.

Time to take the laptop in.

Till another day, Olivia

Pictures from top: Atlantic waves courtesy of Danielle; green hardpack; clouds sillouette the lone boy with boogie board; off kilter clouds and resorts to the south; view from my table on the upper deck above the pool, looking out over the beach, night has fallen.