Tuesday, I ran away from home.
I’ve been at the house almost 100% of the time since I got
back from Albuquerque in July. Not only
at the house but in the house. It’s been
too hot to do anything outside. Work in
the yard - noooo (everything I’ve wanted to do involved moving plants
and they would not be happy being dug up and moved when the temperature was 100°
and the ground rock hard). After my
drive home from Albuquerque, I suffered with “car paranoia” for a couple of
weeks – god knows, breaking down on Hwy 59 would be tantamount to entering hell. Morgan wasn’t doing too well and I was
reluctant to leave for more than an hour or so.
Wharton doesn’t offer much in the way of fun things to do. Whine, whine, whine.
So, I ran away from home. People that know me would know where to look –
the closest beach. Right now, that’s Matagorda. I got down there
early. The sandy path down to the beach is
still pristine.
There are a few wild beach flowers still blooming.
The tide is really high and the beach looks like someone has
dumped two dozen truck loads of sand on it.
Soft white sand – the kind of soft where each step sinks down over my
ankles. There is much wind. Lots of waves – big waves for no storm
brewing out there. Very strange.
This is August and usually the tide is low and the waves are quiet. There is not one single shell on the
beach. This is Matagorda – there are always shells. The water is really warm – well, that’s
normal.
The pelicans are out flying around over the water. It’s amazing to watch them fish. They hover for a few seconds and dive
straight down. Wham – into the water and
float up and fly away.
I’m not sure what is better than sandy feet, warm water, the
sound of waves, the feel of the air, the briny scent on the breeze. It soothes my soul and relaxes my mind.
Take care.
you should have called! I would have gone with in a heartbeat.
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