I believe in one God, and no more; and I hope for happiness beyond this life. I believe the equality of man, and I believe that religious duties consist in doing justice, loving mercy, and endeavoring to make our fellow-creatures happy. But, lest it should be supposed that I believe many other things in addition to these, I shall, in the progress of this work, declare the things I do not believe, and my reasons for not believing them. Continue reading
We knew of course to expect some rain today. We could see it on the horizon. The dreary clouds were a marked departure from what had been weeks of blue skies and yellow sunshine. Continue reading
We have apparently fallen victim to another addiction – food! Perhaps it started yesterday when we succumbed to Sea Shack for lunch. Or maybe it was days ago when I spied a pecan pie at Fresh Market. Whatever the proximate cause, restraint went to Hell in a handbag today! The effect was similar to that “one drink” when falling off the wagon. When for example we cycled this morning to Fifth Avenue Salon to check the place out in anticipation of my hair appointment this afternoon, we ended by detouring to Sea Shack for lunch. No doubt the indulgence whet my appetite because later this afternoon when I went to T.J. Maxx to buy a cheap little bathroom mirror (and I mean cheap, and really ugly – pink with rhinestones), I diverted my mission to Whole Foods Market to “inspect” their bakery department. I believe they make their own stuff so that was the impetus to “test” the Cayenne Chocolate Cookie Sandwiches and Chocolate Chip Oatmeal cookies. And – oh, yes – the pecan pie. Had I mentioned pecan pie? Continue reading
Whether it was the coincidence of meeting complete strangers from Pennsylvania at Harbour Town this morning and telling them about Sea Shack (where “the locals” dine) or whether the place has been on our minds since we arrived here two weeks ago, whatever the reason, we found ourselves cycling to this exceedingly modest restaurant for lunch today. This is the first time we’ve dined out since our arrival on the Island. And what a great way to start! It’s a Maritime hallmark! As always we were not disappointed. And as usual I had the identical meal I’ve had every time I have been there – a cup of soup (which daily varies between clam chowder and seafood bisque), blackened Grouper, cole slaw and corn bread. The meal always comes with three Hush Puppies (corn fritters). To drink I had unsweetened tea with a lemon wedge. We ate at one of three out-of-doors picnic tables next to the restaurant. It was the same Mexican server who delivered our meals to us, a single mom immigrant who came here about 25 years ago to escape the violence of Mexico City. She told us that she is tired of moonlighting at the yacht club, that she finds the patrons there too picky and that she is looking for a “good man” so she’ll be able to give up that “extra” job. The female cashier also recognized us when we arrived and placed our order. She welcomed us back.
It’s Sunday morning, only our second Sunday since arriving on the Island on November 15th last but another in a succession of warm, sunny days which we’ve delighted in for the past two weeks. I gaze out the wide front windows of the condominium onto the expansive green common. A black cat crouches at the edge of the pool, staring into the water as though watching something below then eerily turns its green orbs in my direction, its tail motionless. Small birds flit between the palm trees. The water of Calibogue Sound shimmers in the distance. Pelicans and herons sail mere minutes above the water. The early morning sunshine is creeping over the manicured hedges. Schubert and Brahms mollify the whole. A runner clad in white clothes whisks by on the beach. Two walkers, heads down toward the sand, stroll along the beach, speechless. A cone tumbles from a sea pine.
Things started off lazily enough this morning. For one, I didn’t begin to stir in my lair until after eight o’clock, an hour too late by any standard of decency. Burying my face in the soft down pillow (which fortunately I brought from home), I fought back my accustomed get-up-and-go instinct. But in the end my Protestantism triumphed. The blue sky and sunshine were peeping through the bedroom blinds embarrassing me. In my languid state through a half-opened eye I caught a glimpse of a palm tree and the shimmering sapphire waters of Calibogue Sound in the distance. The thought of “wasting” any part of a sunny day lying in bed is utterly loathsome to me. It was equally useless to countenance any inner argument about well deserved relaxation and having nothing to do for the rest of my life.
We landed on Hilton Head Island a little over ten days ago. As curious as it may sound we today concluded our residential rental arrangement here for next year’s winter season (2016 – 17). While there would appear to be no particular urgency to the matter, it is not sous-entendu that the place one desires will necessarily be available for five uninterrupted months. The longer one waits, the more likely it is that there may arise interim rentals during that five-month stretch (especially around the American Thanksgiving, Christmas and March Break). Naturally if one doesn’t give a damn about one property in particular, or if one feels adventurous about letting things unfold as they may, then there is no need whatever to direct one’s mind to such detail. We however prefer some certainty. We are not cavalier about where we’ll end up. After traveling here for five years, we know the Island tolerably well and, although I am the first to agree that the entire Island is superb, we nonetheless know where we do and do not prefer to be. And quite frankly most interlopers such as we haven’t the prospect of being here for five months so the forward planning is obviously of less significance. Continue reading
I feel I must learn to account for my life in code here on Hilton Head Island. The reason? Practically every day is the same – which is to say, divine – and I am running out of ways to chronicle it though I never tire of saying it. Certainly there are occasional modifications but the prominent themes are tiresomely predictable; viz., get up, drink coffee, stare out the window at the sunlight on the sand, the water and the lush palm trees, eat fresh fruit, shower, apply Coppertone, bicycle up the coast on the mainland, bicycle home on the beach, flake out by the pool, eat dinner, watch a movie, go to bed. There must be a code for all that, it really doesn’t differ much from day to day. Just the crashing waves of the Ocean, the squawk of the gulls, the fresh salt sea air, the sun, perpetual sunshine and warmth!
Our feet were on the floorboards no later than 7:30 a.m. this morning. Because tomorrow is American Thanksgiving we determined to shop for the few things we needed sooner than later in hopes of avoiding the expected last minute crowds at the grocery stores. Normally we launch ourselves onto our bicycles at the start of the day. But today a combination of sore muscles and competing urgency persuaded us otherwise. The altered agenda did not of course distract us from having breakfast. Between slurps of hot, black, strong coffee I gobbled up a box of blackberries. To get rid of leftovers, I had slices of lemon/tarragon chicken with two pieces of cheese. Then I washed it all down with low-salt chicken broth. Continue reading
It’s Tuesday evening, 6:32 p.m., the tail end of another sublime day under the sea pines and palm trees on Hilton Head Island. Although the temperature didn’t climb much above 60°F today the sky was blue and the sunshine brilliant. After our routine (though somewhat truncated) 2½-hour bicycle ride this morning I rewarded myself by lounging by the pool in the warm mid-afternoon sunshine. I dozed for about half an hour, a much needed recuperation. Afterwards I showered and dressed then went shopping for a duvet (“down alternative”) and a bath mat. Now as the day at last winds down we’re perched at the dining room table in front of our respective MacBook Pro computers, sipping Perrier and S.Pellegrino listening to Benny Goodman on Spotify. The remarkably true sound is being piped through our Bose Mini Soundlink. We’re basically having left-overs for dinner tonight. I was overly enthusiastic in the grocery stores in the past couple of days and bought rather more than we needed. We’ll attempt to put a dent in what we have before going to Fresh Market to indulge ourselves in those marvellous crab cakes! The grocery aisles will be a dangerous place in the next 48 hours as everyone here prepares for the American Thanksgiving feast. Kroger’s (parenthetically founded by Bernard Kroger in 1883 in Cincinnati, Ohio and now the country’s largest supermarket chain by revenue, about $103B in 2014) condescended to assist in this matter by remaining open 24-hours a day for the next two days. Clearly that place will be one to avoid for the moment though I suspect Fresh Market and Harris Teeter won’t be any different. It is impossible to ignore the sudden swell of people on the Island. The bike paths now teem with cyclists, often congregations of entire families on bicycles, trycycles and tandems. I am yet surprised that there continue to be so may people walking on the beach. I would find it irresistible to watch people flying by on their bicycles. Continue reading
