It begins with good intentions of homeowner responsibilities neatly numbered on index cards that, without attempt of reason, become suddenly insignificant.  The leaves fallen from the oaks continue to pile up in the yard and we pile together in the car, knowing they will wait for us to return.  We have a sunset to catch, and an insatiable appetite for beachfront dining, salty air and steel drum bands.

 

Ridiculous as it may be, we always fail to realize this idea is not unique to our own.  Locals, snowbirds, spring-breakers and moths alike, we flutter towards the sun, chasing its radiant glow and desperately pleading for it to slow its momentum.  We discuss short-cuts and back roads and give status updates of “Here it goes!” as the sun breaches the horizon.  And with moments to spare, we arrive for a “There is goes!” as the last sliver momentarily flaunts, then falls below the oceans swell.  As if it’s the first we’ve seen, we capture its beauty and gawk at the magnificence of the colors left behind, it’s thoughtful finale for the devoted followers. 

In mojito-sobering consciousness the temperature rapidly drops and we begin our plea with servers for tableside heaters, propane tanks cranked.  Scott surrenders to the sweatshirt display geared towards tourists, intended as souvenirs, and purchased by locals as means of survival.  It’s easy to forget this flush of warmth that fills our bones by day quickly descends by night.  The sweatshirt… it’s now part of the “emergency supplies” bin in my trunk rolled up and tucked between picnic blankets and reusable grocery bags.

 
Our spring sampling continues as by day we head for the beach, toes not moving much further than the waters edge.  We bring the dogs because like little kids and those visiting from North Dakota, they are unfazed by the sting of the brisk water.  We treasure this Ft. Desoto beach for the few times we want to share our sun with the panting breed. 

 
This little guy just walked up and plopped down on Scott’s lap!

In every shape and size imaginable, they flock to this stretch of sand for unleashed play.  Bamboo mats spread and embracing sand-covered-everything, we take in the textures we’ve come to miss through the winter.   

It’s a slow introduction of what our coming months have in store.  For now, this is the cycle that will endure.  We’ve defied time and pushed forward the clocks… spring has sprung.  

I think we’ve kicked it off to a pretty good start.