Many years ago we rented a house in Florida on theisland of Captiva, the shelling Mecca of the world. It is said the island was used to house, pirate’s female prisoners. It was hurricane season and hot as . . . But that’s what we wanted. I was looking for a place where the dress code of the day was a pair of swimming trunks.
In the north, August’s weather is unpredictable. One day it will be warm, the next cold and than hotter than a frying pan and then it could be cold and rainy. Anyway this particular year I longed for the heat and the sun.
And so we drove the twenty-four plus hours to enjoy the pleasures of the sun.
The house we rented, sat off the beach on stilts . . . At least twelve feet off the ground. When someone walked up the steps, anyone sitting watching T.V. would bounce with ever step. But the place was beautiful.
Each morning the sun was blazing in the sky and the pool never cooled from eighty-five degrees. Each evening we grilled shark, salmon, red snapper on electric grill on the house’s screened in porch and drank ice tea with umbrellas.
And each and every day we scoured the white sand beach searching for tiger paws, spiny jewels and any other of the mirage of shells the island had to offer. Each and every day we swam in the Gulf and slept on the beach or read, a writer’s vacation in paradise.
Dreams Are Yours To Share