Just swimmingly

Just swimmingly

This morning I jotted down a few words and phrases to help me with my blog. We are currently entering the second week of our cottage stay and it is going well…swimmingly.

I didn’t know one of my objectives would be trying out each flavor of ice cream at the local general store. There are 8 I think and I have 5 more to go! Good thing I brought my favorite craft apron to hide my growing rolls.

It’s miles and miles of continuous sand here when the tide is out, and the sleeping, well, it’s really sleeping, in a bed made up so tight, I know the rentee has to have been a nurse.

The colors swirl in my head: brown as a berry, white washed clam shells, Van Gogh’s golden fields, and black beetles scurrying across the bathroom floor. I have never taken in the sky as I have done this summer. Every selfie we take holds a different one. Hooking the neighborhood is easier now as its vision resides in my head. Watch the beach come alive to me when I get home.

I love my tousled hair look done up with a sturdy hair clip. I may never color my hair again. I have worn the same earrings for a week, and my lipstick is the perfect shade for a sun kissed face.

It’s rural love: a visit from the pastor and his regal dog. It’s the expectant knock on the door from someone you’ve invited in your ever hopeful way, or a holler perhaps, “anyone there?”

Murdoch night is every night. I have read and continue to read of the untamed women, Ana and Glennon, one fictional, the other not. I have my own untamed human with me every day and what better way to get to know her than at the beach, our favorite place on earth?

I am hungry all of the time here, and right now I am planning on making a sausage and egg sandwich. Does my heart and throat fill to the thought of the person who always made the best of these? Sure does.

This morning as I watch the trailers stop to refuel, I notice the beginnings, of what I believe, is a fairy ring on our rental’s lawn. How appropriate. I think about going for a closer look but do not want to for fear my whimsical dream will be ruined: a fairy ring surrounding this house of mushrooms, to protect us from the grief and confusion of our outside world where pain can be excruciating and a break is needed to reflect upon the happy times and to collect new memories of green, amber, and light.

Vintage is bliss. Bliss vintage.

Melissa xoxo

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