Folly River

 September 7, 2023

Our weather has been perfect, if a little tropical. Another pure clear morning with a ball of incipient fire hovering in the east. In half an hour the balcony will be uninhabitable.

Made my little inroads into the village, spying out odd corners and, in many cases, deliciously picturesque beach houses, each one to be coveted for a different reason. Sat on the dead street with iced coffee. Even the grackles were exhausted. There’s no emptiness like the emptiness of a resort after Labor Day. Drinks and salad on the pier, all that. Last night Captain Will took us on a boat tour–”Flipper Finders”-- of the Folly River and various formerly pirate-haunted inlets. I wanted to see dolphins, and dolphins we saw, as well as wood storks, oystercatchers, egrets, terns, pelicans, one great hunched and gloomy great blue heron. I can’t account for the melancholy I felt the whole time. We disembarked on a sandbank surrounding the lighthouse, where I found a sand dollar I was going to give to a little boy on the boat with us, except he came back with a brimming handful of the same. It was sunset, and the marshes were voluptuously beautiful, the sky pink and orange and purple around the reddest sun that ever was. Birds flew over, finding their rest for the night. In my dreams, marshes and swamps represent blessedness and peace. I don’t know why, as I didn’t grow up around any such landscape. I thought of that watching the real marshes darken around me. Am I drawn to a place like this to find peace? Should I start checking with realtors? Captain Will is a man who found a job that will cause him the least conceivable turbulence. A blessed man. The kid climbed around too much, but other than that, what could disturb him? He bids every day goodbye looking at dolphins and the light go technicolor over the holy wetlands.

Watching the US Open tennis matches. There are moments when tennis is exciting, and the players are fine physical specimens, but I never watch it on my own.

Vacation is Scrolling Your Phone Somewhere Else.

Hummingbirds at the balcony.

Evening: Went to the sea and played. Soothing, massaging. Shared it with surprisingly few. Turning red, but gradually, so it’s reasonably becoming. Drifted in cool water, thinking my thoughts, praying the same prayers that do not avail me on dry land. One pelican flies over us repeatedly. I know from the one feather missing from his right wing.