Birds Over Marsh

I grew up in North Georgia with stately pines, red clay, rolling hills, sweet ice tea, and a relaxed way of life (or so it seemed as a child).  I guess that’s why I feel comfortable when we leave our daughter each fall at her NC college (that has a similar landscape), just as we did last weekend.  She’s going into her third year so she definitely doesn’t need anyone to go with her.  But Allen and I have gotten into the routine of packing 2 vehicles and enjoying that last weekend with her of what seems like the end of our summer.

I asked her about it on Saturday, and she said, “It helps me transition back into college life after spending the summer at home.”  Meredith loves the coast and everything about it.

I agree.   Though I enjoy traveling and seeing new things, I am drawn to our Georgia coast.  I feel at home when I breathe in the salt marsh, teeming with life.  Even now, the seabirds wheel and squawk overhead.   White birds hover over and in the marsh.  The brisk breeze cools the land and air and teases the gray-green Spanish moss on the ancient live oaks.  St. Catherine’s and Ossabaw, almost mystical as they rise from the water in the near distance, constantly change from the forces of the wind, ocean currents, tides, and storms.  But still these barrier islands seem to stand as protectors from the storms that often travel up to the  N.C. coast.

There’s a sense of wonder on the coast … if you take the time to savor the experience.

Early on, I loved the beach.  But when I lived in Charleston after college, I also fell in love with the salt marsh, the meandering creeks, and “whiling the day away” with friends on a small boat, crabbing.  You have to understand that at the time, I was driven … corporate all the way, working on my MBA, a golden girl moving up.  But when I was on the water, everything stressful slipped away.  My good friends always reminded me that life had a lot of different sides.  Work was just one of them.

It is a balance I’ve struggled with most of my life.  But at Yellow Bluff, I am reminded by the minute that life is precious.  Birds twitter in the trees.  Crickets hum.   White puffy clouds against a background of darker storm clouds paint ever-changing pictures of animals over St. Catherine’s.  I’m hopeful that the dolphins will surprise me at the dock (as they did a few days ago) when they resurface long enough to delight, and then slip back to their watery world.  It’s peaceful.  Miss Goldie, the Yellow Bluff cat, cracks one eye, stretches on the porch, and then sighs as she drifts to sleep again.  All is good.  It’s home.