Several years ago when wintering on Longboat Key, in the apartment we had rented there hung on the wall a painting I admired very much.  It was typical of those one sees in coastal resorts; that is, a beach chair over which swayed a large colourful umbrella. I was tempted to telephone the landlord to enquire whether I might purchase it.  But then the Covid scare arose and we were advised by the Canadian government to return home immediately.  The travel urgency trumped the artistic purpose.

Last year on Hilton Head Island, the day after we arrived, while eating breakfast at Lowcountry Produce & Market, I spied a painting propped on the upper shelf of a large wooden bookcase. I asked our server to let me have a closer look.  He collected it for me then wrapped it.  It now hangs in our apartment. The painting is by a local artist from Beaufort (just over the bridge on the mainland). The scene is once again typical of this subterranean climate; viz., a coastal marsh.

This year on Hilton Head Island the print shown here as the featured image hangs in the cottage we have rented. Living here on Lands End at the southern tip of the island overlooking Broad Creek and Braddock Cove, we are minutes from Calibogue Sound and the North Atlantic Ocean on the opposite side of the island. The ocean view depicted in this print is reminiscent of the dunes I recall along Dune Lane past Coligny Beach Park. It is an area of Hilton Head Island which I very much adored but I can no longer travel that far on my tricycle without wearing myself down.  I haven’t any regret about not being able to do so; I am satisfied I my age to have spent part of my younger days doing so.  But the memories linger favourably.

It seems too that I have reached the zenith of my combined possessiveness and art.  We literally haven’t any more space in our apartment for another wall hanging.  I now that I have completed my primary coastal bent with the approaching marshlands, I am satisfied to conclude this particular venture. Admittedly part of the obsession is illustrative of my need to punctuate a journey with an especial memory.  That too has dissolved. I am now content to collect my mental images with occasional photographs.