The Florida Panhandle has been suffering from months of beautiful days. I hear you all pity me. Sunday the rain rolled across the sky drenching the area and Monday morning it was gone. The plants were satisfied, the grass less crunchy and the beach was gorgeous.
After a storm the beach has a special quality to it. The water is smooth as glass with a light emerald green cast and the shore is shallow. It’s like the Blue Lagoon. I become Brooke Sheilds in a loin cloth surveying my aquatic kingdom. Skimming the water’s surface with my feet and splashing my blond teenage husband with the spray. I cover my geisha giggles with an over rehearsed coquette hand gesture.
Ack Ack…Ack Ack…I say to the dolphins, communicating with them in a telepathic sonar who then turn flips at my command. The seahorses and starfish hop onto the sand, dry themselves and beg to become my nautical jewelry and adornment for the day. The fish light a bonfire then jump into a kettle and cook themselves for my lunch.
Then I go shell shopping. Not just any shells will do mind you. They must be just so. THEY MUST BE PERFECT! After I have collected the perfect shells, I curl up on the beach and act coy while the sand crabs weave them into a tapestry.
It’s an idyllic paradise.