We’re already planning our return visit to this idyllic venue, a plane of laid-back tranquility and remorseless indulgence. The heat and sunshine instantly quell every hesitation that dares to survive the incomparable soothing nature of life here. The furnishings of the apartment are reminiscent of the Hemingway theme so popular in Key West, the wooden wall panels, the mahogany and wicker chairs, the prints and accessories of everything nautical and seaside. I long ago learned not to attempt to take it all with me. It is an ephemeral passion; it’s state of contentment survives here and here alone.

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When the immediate appeal is muted by circumstance one must look beyond. It is not guaranteed inviting or replacement. But if one is patient – itself a not uncommon challenge – the rewards of the alternative can be startling. For example today began with the initial disappointment of foul weather; that is, grey clouds instead of blue sky. There was the forecast of thunder storms midday. Though we attempted to surmount this defeat by swimming in the pool, the magic was not there on a cloudy day. My only option was to venture about in search of a photographic opportunity. I headed to the pier. There I propped my stick against the railing through which it promptly tumbled below ten feet or more upon the rocky beach. There was no way for me to reach it from above. And I didn’t want to attempt its recovery by scaling the rocky shoreline for fear of tumbling myself. I therefore regretfully resolved in my mind to abandon it to the sea.

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“The weather had indeed served the Protestant cause so well that some men of more piety than judgment fully believed the ordinary laws of nature to have been suspended for the preservation of the liberty and religion of England. ”

Excerpt From
The History of England, from the Accession of James II — Volume 2
Thomas Babington Macaulay

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At 7:30 am this morning when we drove off New Smyrna Beach through the pink daylight sky the temperature was hovering around 60°F. Hours later as we soared off the Florida Turnpike onto the Overseas Highway towards Key Largo the thermometer had jumped to over 80°F. The sense of wilting and softening was instantaneous! My mind was as speedily absorbed in the fiction of moving to a subtropical climate permanently; and as rapidly acknowledging the allure of the South Pacific to our ancient friends who have done precisely that!

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Art for art’s sake—the usual English rendering of l’art pour l’art , a French slogan from the early 19th century—is a phrase that expresses the philosophy that the intrinsic value of art, and the only ‘true’ art, is divorced from any didactic, moral, political, or utilitarian function. Such works are sometimes described as autotelic (from Greek: autoteles, ‘complete in itself’), a concept that has been expanded to embrace “inner-directed” or “self-motivated” human beings.

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The combination of an inarguable Northeast wind of 24 Km/hr and a predicted high tide at 1:16 PM did not bode well for a late morning cycle on the beach. I dawdled in bed until close to 8:30 am this morning. Even after my immediate performance of ablutions I corrupted the regular breakfast agenda by reading a lengthy article published by the Berggruen Institute in a magazine entitled Noēma. I was strangely overcome with the necessity to submit my personal take on the editorial article.

In 2010, Nicolas Berggruen and Nathan Gardels sat down with a group of scholars, business leaders and political veterans in California to contemplate the economic and political stresses caused by the global financial crisis, the widespread perception of failing political institutions and Western democracies and the question of how China’s rise would affect international cooperation and governance in the 21st century.

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Circuitously I made my way today about Sea Pines on my bicycle. Initially I had it in mind that I wasn’t up to the customary more prolonged route towards Sonesta at Marker 67 then back along the beach to Sea Pines Beach Club.  My prior investigations over breakfast informed me the High Tide was at 12:25 PM and the wind from the Northwest at 19 Km/h which translated to an undesirable shoreline course except perhaps from the northern end of the Island southwards.  Indeed it was the latter prescription I thought to follow first by accessing the beach near Ocean Gate whence I figured I might sail southward towards either Beach Club or Tower Beach.  When I made it to the beach my energy was sufficiently saturated to prompt me to lay down my bike then myself upon the sand.

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For what began this morning as a comparatively uneventful day – which on Hilton Head Island I dare say is hardly a misgiving of any sustainable nature – heated up fairly rapidly following my return mid-afternoon to the “villa” (as our estate agent is wont to describe it though I cannot imagine why). Prior to re-attending the apartment – and midway during my constitutional cycle – I had contented myself to repose on the fine white sand adjacent the dunes at the northern end of Sea Pines near Ocean Gate. The bicycle ride today from Coligny Beach Park was another of those endurance outings as I confronted a strong wind from the southwest. Given the qualifications of my rental bicycle, rotating the pedals is not a matter of calculated ease.  Nonetheless I embrace the demand as it affords the necessity to put my back into it, something I conceive will hasten weight loss although to date – in the face of glazed donuts – it has not. By the time I had gone only half-way from Coligny to my goal at Sea Pines Beach Club I succumbed to the allure of reclining on the beach by the dunes.

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Lingering on Hilton Head Island is a simple but congenial abandonment. Yet I find it achieves the height of prosperity to have nothing to do but seize the moment. At this late stage of my life it is a commission of welcome interest, accommodation and engagement. Frankly I can think of absolutely nothing more pleasant and diverting nor more respectful of the uncertain vicissitudes of life.  It is an obligation void of anything rapacious or vulgar. It has a natural element which invigorates that of which one so often hears others so knowingly opine to visit upon themselves; viz., the often poetic ingredients of sunshine, fresh air and a crashing ocean.

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The immediate provocation this morning was the annual filing of government forms with the US Department of the Treasury Internal Revenue Service (“Closer Connection Exception Statement for Aliens“). The incitement to the local post office where we purchased a 58¢ stamp conveniently took us adjacent an ATM and the purveyor of freshly fried donuts glazed in glistening white sugary syrup. We opted to linger at Lowcountry Produce Market & Café as was our wont. There at the service of Robert (an erstwhile long-haired English teacher who instructively approves of the vernacular rather than the mechanical fiat of grammar) we indulged our further appetite. In short, an indescribably satisfying detour from our customary ambitions! Thus enlivened we afterwards regained our balance. I launched my traditional outing upon the trusty two-wheeler.

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