Creeping Tide, Creeping Sand


Today’s sunshine sent us to the beach. Well, two beaches really. First, we walked from our park to the Savannah River beach and after a leisurely stroll, settled ourselves around a gorgeous driftwood tree trunk. We watched a small freighter slowly approach Savannah and then rapidly back up for a monster oil tanker, riding high and empty, leaving the river. At ebb tide the channel must be quite narrow.

We read and relaxed, and even though we turned and basted carefully, we got our obligatory first sunburn of the season. We returned to hear Sprocket barking up a storm. Oops! We’d left the shades up and no radio on, so he’d watched our new neighbors come set up with their own little barkers. I do wish the municipality of Tybee Island allowed leashed dogs on their beaches.


After a lunch salad, we went over to the ocean-side beach. Lots of pale people, both local and tourist, had come to offer their first layer of epidermis to the sun god. Sunbathing, Frisbee games, everything but happy dogs on leashes. Low tide had left a vast, firm, seemingly level beach, with plenty of room for everyone.

me.jpgI watched Bruce getting to know his new Nikon camera. (think of Ralphie with his Red Ryder B-B gun). This wasn’t a beach for stones or shells, but for photos of sea birds, siphon holes, tidal-sand patterns, and the inner child of my beloved, shooting away at gulls trammeling the wet sand for the siphon’s source. The incoming tide quickly advanced on the almost flat beach and at 4:30, we were just about the last people left.

When we came home, Bruce managed to clear the dining table of most of the camera boxes and booklets, and I began to prepare dinner. I noticed the nerve-etching sound of sand grit under glassware and plates. Sandy floor, sandy shoes, sandy pockets, sandy hair: we’ll have to watch that sand doesn’t mix with computers, cameras or food, ‘cause our ePod is officially a beach-house now!



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