I am a total dope. I followed a beach sign down to a rocky shore. But there is another beach sign just up the trail a few feet that goes straight to an actual beach. I get there with still a hot sun coaxing me under the gentle waves, huge scallop shells within reach.
I stay out on my private beach until the shadows get long then disappear altogether, roosting cormorants look like vases in the trees, their heads tucked all the way under their wings.
The tree house faces east looking out over the estuary, pink streaks reflected in the receding water that I’ll walk in a few hours. My sleep here was quiet and deep, I hate to leave but feel prepared for what today brings even if my ankle is more ‘cankle’ at the moment.
Just like home, it’s not easy to get up out of a warm, snuggly nest especially since I stayed up late sewing up the rips in my trousers – and watching Australian Ninja with Hugh and a “cuppa.”
Full breakfast and lots of conversation around the table about Minnesota and ecology. Turns out the locals hate the mangroves, “They bring the mud and ruin my sand beach!” The fact is, draining the area for farming took out the native wetland, and the mangrove – with their spreading snorkels – are simply opportunists.