WaterColor, what a dream land. This welcoming beach community is named ever so perfectly with the hues of the sea and the sky changing like a living water color painting. It's been over a year since I have ventured down to this ocean paradise along the Gulf of Mexico in Santa Rosa Beach, Florida. And how I was amazed. I could travel the whole world round and not see sand so soft and white like sugar, water so turquoise and clear as a newly drawn bath, and skies so gracefully boasting both sunrise and sunset over the ocean.
My "Queen" Christen invited me down to her family's happy abode for a relaxing Labor Day gettaway. There were 6 of us in all, including Hartford who decided to come down last minute. My brother and I were the first to arrive on Friday afternoon and lost no time plunging into the cool, salty wave pool and hitting the local Publix supermarket for mostly booze and a little grub to get us through the weekend. Seaside's live music in the grass lawn blooming with dozens of families flirted with our desire for a pic-nic on the beach at sunset. I was eager to teach Hart the right way to watch the sun go down: On the beach, with a celebratory drink, shared with another, over good conversation... and laughing is sure to follow.
Before we knew it we were marveling over the full, orange harvest moon rising ever so slyly in the twinkling sky. We watched stars bursting through the heavens and satelites steadily creeping ore the vast space evoking memories, stories, philosophy and an urgency to call just about every one we knew to share the beauty of our all but simple, all but free, perfect bliss. We tried our darndest to stay up for the arrival of the troops: 1 Ironman, 1 fashionista, 1 trial lawyer and 1 groovy sweetheart. But after making some noise with the guitar and jembe drums on the front porch, sharing an awful cigarette and improvising some obnoxiously pleasing song, we retired to bed with teeth stained red and dreams of bicycles, spider man goggles, YOLO paddling, roof top margaritas and jiving old men at Bud and Alley's.
I loved practicing the art of eating in, front-porch sittin, crawling in and out of the window like a ninja, answering the call of the sea a dozen times a day, rising early to paint watercolors on the beach amid the puppy dogs and fishermen and most of all getting this quality time with those I adore. Thank y'all for filling me up with more happiness deemed sane. I love you Hart, Christen, Morgan, Clint, Don and Miss Dawn and Mister Draper.
My "Queen" Christen invited me down to her family's happy abode for a relaxing Labor Day gettaway. There were 6 of us in all, including Hartford who decided to come down last minute. My brother and I were the first to arrive on Friday afternoon and lost no time plunging into the cool, salty wave pool and hitting the local Publix supermarket for mostly booze and a little grub to get us through the weekend. Seaside's live music in the grass lawn blooming with dozens of families flirted with our desire for a pic-nic on the beach at sunset. I was eager to teach Hart the right way to watch the sun go down: On the beach, with a celebratory drink, shared with another, over good conversation... and laughing is sure to follow.
Before we knew it we were marveling over the full, orange harvest moon rising ever so slyly in the twinkling sky. We watched stars bursting through the heavens and satelites steadily creeping ore the vast space evoking memories, stories, philosophy and an urgency to call just about every one we knew to share the beauty of our all but simple, all but free, perfect bliss. We tried our darndest to stay up for the arrival of the troops: 1 Ironman, 1 fashionista, 1 trial lawyer and 1 groovy sweetheart. But after making some noise with the guitar and jembe drums on the front porch, sharing an awful cigarette and improvising some obnoxiously pleasing song, we retired to bed with teeth stained red and dreams of bicycles, spider man goggles, YOLO paddling, roof top margaritas and jiving old men at Bud and Alley's.
I loved practicing the art of eating in, front-porch sittin, crawling in and out of the window like a ninja, answering the call of the sea a dozen times a day, rising early to paint watercolors on the beach amid the puppy dogs and fishermen and most of all getting this quality time with those I adore. Thank y'all for filling me up with more happiness deemed sane. I love you Hart, Christen, Morgan, Clint, Don and Miss Dawn and Mister Draper.
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