To bask in sunshiney warmth.

After a truly horrendous trip from D.C. to Lake Charles on Friday (twelve hours total; last flight had no water in the bathroom), we have relaxed in the most wonderful ways. 

Early morning fog over the bayou

We awoke yesterday to the most glorious cape of fog draped over the bayou's shoulders. It burned off and then the rains came. Dad and I went to the SW Louisiana garden show where we attended a fantastic session on growing herbs. Did you know that dill is a solo performer? Dill is not friendly! Plant it by itself or with at least a foot of space all around. 

When we emerged from the expo, the sun was shining, and the remainder of the day was a stunner. Dad and Oliver took the canoe out and tipped it around the bend from home. It took them a long while to bail out, and Ol later told me that he was worried the entire time that a hibernating alligator would wake up and eat him. Poor kiddo. I must say those beasts scare me too.

An enormous pelican glided down the bayou, his huge brown wings arcing out and over, tips just piercing the water's surface, a slight wake left in its path.  You don't often see pelicans around here. It was such a beauty.

The brown pelican is LA's state bird.  

It paddled back down at a rapid clip before edging out of sight. Meanwhile, a bluebird peeked out of its house and then picked through the grass for food and nest materials. A lizard sunned in full camouflage on a long amaryllis leaf, a graceful white egret fished on the shore opposite us, and a majestic blue heron swept by repeatedly.

Today was another beaut, and the warmest yet. We had a lazy morning-I spent most of it in a super comfortable reclining chaise in the yard-before being picked up by some of my parents' friends for an afternoon on their marvelous pontoon boat. I am telling y'all- this weather and natural beauty and wide open space are all desperately good for a winter-weary soul.

I never tire of Spanish moss. 

I'm in bed already, tuckered out in the best way after two full days of sunshine and family. Hope y'all are well!!

Souvenir

Ten-minute freewrite from today, based on a prompt by the inestimable Jena Schwartz.

I bought one and stole the other, and not in that order.

Eyes, they are called. Oculi. Thick wooden rounds incised and painted with a star and crescent moon. Affixed to the bows of the wooden fishing boats, dhows, so common off the coast of East Africa. Looking out and across the sea to ward off evil spirits and danger.

I was in Lamu, a town on Lamu island, in Lamu archipelago, in the Indian Ocean just off the coast of Kenya. My boyfriend? Lover? Amorous pen pal? I still don't know if ever we figured our terminology out. It didn't really matter, although it seemed to, then.

Anyway, he, a Peace Corps volunteer, and I, the pal to his pen, had flown east on a tiny puddle jumper for a few days off the mainland in a mysterious, enchanting place.

I was falling in love/lust/wanderlust romance with the tan, pony-tailed man who'd brought me here, who fed me fresh fish curry, and held my hand as we walked throughout Lamu town with its erratic electricity supply and dark corners and the joo-eece (juice) stand near our inn. 

But I'd flat-out given my heart to the creaky boats that listed dramatically when the tide went out and stood back to attention when it rolled lazily back in. The dhows. And that is how I found myself scouring blinding white beaches for their skeletons one August afternoon in 2001.

I told him I wanted an eye to remember our trip. Like so many men who, when faced with a "problem" work like hell to "fix" it, he did. We finally found my treasure, hanging from a tetanus-promising nail coming loose from the dhow's sun-bleached, time-worn hull.

But whose was it? Not mine, certainly. But could it be? We wrestled with this quandary for what was probably not long enough. Romance won, the promise of memory won. He pried it loose and placed in on my palm. Possessively, my slender fingers curled around it. Mine.

In town later, I bought another. To "cancel" out my theft? To make amends? Have a matched set?

Neither love nor lust made it, but the memories did. And so did my eyes. They hang on my library wall now, tokens of adventure in what seems a lifetime ago, under a framed photograph of a working dhow, floating upright in an azure sea.

A weekend away on Maryland's Eastern Shore

Ah me, three nights and four days away with just T was just what we needed. And the perfect birthday present for him, to boot! I am so grateful to my in-laws for keeping the boys and letting us escape to the Eastern Shore.

We took off late last Friday morning, aiming for St. Michael's, MD. Lunchtime found us near Annapolis, and hunger and a quick Yelp search directed us to Giolitti, an authentic, delicious Italian delicatessen over which I went bananas. Italian radio streamed in the background, and my tonno Italiano sandwich was so good that I not only stopped talking while eating but also, fast forward, made Tom bring me by for another on our way home yesterday. 

sicilian-style tuna, balsamic, provolone, lettuce, and perfect bread

T had a muffaletta on our first pass, and a meatball sub on our second. We also discovered Poppies chocolate-coconut macaroons, an import from Belgium that are like high-brow Girl Scout cookies (the Samoas, aka Caramel D'lights). We ate one box on Friday and now have another in our pantry, as well as some fab pastas, and one ball each of mozzarella di bufala and burrata and a large bag of speck, all imported from Italy, in the fridge. Winning! 

Happy guy who, at the time this was snapped, was still 38. We found this a fitting memorial. Today he's 39. 

If ever you are near Annapolis, haul ass to Giolitti! The only disappointment was their tiramisu which had some sort of flavored cream that neither T nor I liked at all. Like, I refused to take a second bite. Blech. The cannoli, on the other hand, utilized the freshest, crispiest, yummiest shell I've enjoyed in ages. While I am a purist and do not like chocolate in my cream filling, it didn't distract too terribly from this delicacy!

Once checked in to the Inn at Perry Cabin (a very lovely, comfortable, friendly place; we highly recommend if you get a good rate, as did we; too pricey on the regular, in our opinion, unless that matters not, in which case, go forth and enjoy.), we walked the main drag of St. Michael's, putzing and 'sploring (our old-as-we-are nickname for how we like to explore new places) and remembering what it's like to be nothing more than a couple. 

It is so important to take this time for each other, to reconnect in unrushed, unscheduled ways. We played backgammon atop our bed, spontaneously attended the Cava cocktail event being hosted in the library (and met a young couple that happens to know one of our friends who was a groomsman in our wedding; SUCH a small world), went out to eat, napped, watched a movie, read, and got massages.  

a hearty breakfast of quinoa, warm veggies, micro greens, balsamic drizzle, and a fried egg; at the Bartlett Pear Inn

It didn't matter that it drizzled and chilled Saturday as we 'splored the nearby (and charming) town of Easton, for we both fit under one umbrella and could pop into cozy bookstores and galleries and antique shops whenever a storefront caught our eye. 

We could simply roll as if peacefully and purposefully atop a wave, and it was heavenly. 

(The writer critic in me notices that there are three adverbs in the above sentence and not a few in this piece, is exceedingLY vexed about them, but is going ahead anyway.)

steamers and grilled bread; at t at the General Store

Even after fifteen years together, T had no idea that I love scarabs until we came across an ages-old soapstone one in a pop-up antiques market whose name now escapes me. You can't know how perfectly smooth and weighted that little treasure was. I wish I'd bought it. Over brunch, I read to T about scarab symbology and meaning. Funny and delightful to learn new things about someone you've known and been with for so long.

Yesterday, we headed home, stopping a couple times just because we felt like it and for a quick second pass through Giolitti, and then the boys tumbled in, and Nutmeg stretched and purred, and yay for gumbo in the freezer.

I'll head east to the Shore anytime!

Places to stay:
Inn at Perry Cabin, St. Michael's
Bartlett Pear Inn, Easton

Places to eat:
Giolitti Delicatessen, Annapolis
Bartlett Pear Inn, Easton (love the ambiance and food! Tom had a lamb burger that he said was superb)
Stars, Inn at Perry Cabin, St. Michael's (I had a stellar breakfast of Anson Mills grits with rhubarb and raspberry compotes and honey; off the chart good; T had a very solid eggs Benedict on cheddar biscuits)
t at the General Store, Easton (love the atmosphere, food was all presented in artistic but unfussy fashion but ranged from excellent-those steamers-to just OK; I would go back though!)
Ava's Pizzeria, St. Michael's (pizza was better than average but not outstanding, casual/jovial atmo)
Rise Up coffee, St. Michael's and Easton (a job well done)