Christmas in July

Some are more vocal than others.

The beach here in our neighborhood is quite crowded this week, filled with folks who ordinarily hit the four-wheel drive beaches. We would be among them if the Point was open. But, alas, it's not. So we're not even going to bother with the National Park Service permit. I'm sure we can find something else to do with the $50 we'd have forked over. 


There is a low rumble of anger here from folks who have driven for generations out to the beaches to fish from dawn to dusk or just relax and play for the day on some of the most gorgeous shore line in the country. I can understand the resentment, quite honestly. These people have been free to do this forever. And as long as we've joined them, we've never seen irresponsible driving or littering or disturbing the sea life or nests. I don't honestly know what the science research says. I'm just saying I can certainly see the islanders' side of the coin.

Since we've been coming down here, I've been dying to see what's left of the old Ocean Edge Golf Course. I don't know when it shut down, but   the ruins of it just fascinate me. 

So yesterday we pulled over and trespassed. Yes, we trespassed! It was thrilling! And so worth it. 

Up at the top of the ramp (marked with "No Skateboarding" "No Biking" signs) we saw a rusted pile of golf carts and hundreds and hundreds of flattened beer cans. Beyond that we saw the shadow of the old course. Here's looking straight ahead toward the dunes and ocean.

Here's a view to the right.

And a view to the left. 

The whole place was not quite eerie, but it wasn't exactly country-club either. It was sad, really. Too much was left to the imagination to hear the ghosts of golfers, the gentle hum of their carts. I was satisfied to have seen beyond that ramp, though. Nothing like being where you're not supposed to be to inject a little excitement in your day.

Back on the beach, we were entertained by the Hatteras Village People. This group of people were in a circle doing jumping jacks and push ups yesterday. Today it was a lovely choreographed dance routine.

They don't seem to mind that people stare at them. 
Still, I sneaked these pictures. I didn't want to be rude, even as I plaster them on facebook and this very widely circulated blog.

The lady with the bikini and white hat appeared to be in charge. 

I cannot wait to see what entertainment they have for the island tomorrow.

And finally, one last oddity of Hatteras Village - the ice cream truck plays Christmas tunes. Silent Night. Hark the Herald Angels Sing. Jingle Bells. Christmas in July here on the southern Outer Banks.

Strangers in Speedos

Day 2: Still blessed. So, so blessed.

First off, we slept till 10. When does that ever happen???

Second of all, although Camden banged his nose on the ocean floor and had a bleeder and Benjy wiped out and cried, nobody suffered for more than a minute. Or two. But we're all alive and well now.

And exhibit C: Nobody but God could think to make something as breathtaking as this. Every time I look around me, I'm distracted by the beauty and wonder of it all. This is no accident.

We paid a visit to food expert Vicki before we even hit the beach. The sheepshead fish was fresh. And she was full of advice on how to fix it. I paid $25 and got enough fish for all of us, a bunch of fresh herbs to prepare a nice lemon-dill sauce and some more to give a nice kick to my macaroni salad, some deviled eggs, and enough crab dip to warrant lunch. $25 for lunch and dinner? Yeah! Like I said yesterday, we never eat out here. Vicki has us covered.

I tried to read my new library copy of Nora, Nora by Anne Rivers Siddons while out on the beach today. But I was too distracted. I think I read 5 pages in 2 hours.

See that blue above the sea oats? That's my new favorite color except for yellow which will always be my very favorite color no matter what anybody says about that. That blue makes me want to stare at the sky.

Same blue. A little bit later. My guys are crossing the dunes and coming home from another round of boogie boarding.

So, what's God called me to do today? I did not go evangelize the beach. Which is just weird if you think about it. I mean, how many people walk up to strangers in their bikinis and Speedos? (Yes, I did spy some Speedo's today.) But I did spend some time chatting with Vicki and the lady at the produce stand. I'm pretty sure I was kind. I hope I was bubbling over with love.

I cooked dinner for my family tonight. Thanks to Vicki. Of course, the boys couldn't have cared less about the just-caught-this-morning fish, but Curt and I loved it. And how often do I actually cook a meal from scratch? Let's just say too rarely. (For that matter, how often to I cook a meal???) 


Hmmm. Maybe there's a take-away from this. Wonder if Vicki would consider sending me flash-frozen ingredients and recipes when we go back to New England. Do you think God sent me here to learn how to cook??? If I have a choice, I'll take that option over strangers-in-Speedos.

The 52nd Week

51 weeks ago we left Hatteras Village.
We said goodbye to the Outer Banks.
We prayed we'd be blessed to come back.

 And today we are.


What does that say about us?
That we wait 51 weeks to return to paradise?
That we have nothing to live for until we're back here?
I hope not.
That'd be all wrong.

Still, this - of course - is all right.

Hatteras Village, at the southern tip of Hatteras Island on the Outer Banks of North Carolina, is the perfect mix of wet salty air and sweet ocean breezes. It's the end of the island for cars. Huh, it was an island of its own after Hurricane Irene blew through last fall.  Even now, it's remote.  And that's why we like it.

There's a Dairy Queen up island, but not a single fast food restaurant or even a stop light here. We don't eat out when we're here. We just go to Vicki at Harbor House Seafood to pick up fresh shrimp or tuna or whatever her husband and son caught that day. We've never gone wrong by Vicki. (She taught Curt how to steam pounds of shrimp to perfection.)

In year's past, we've spent at least half our days on the ORV (off-road-vehicle) beaches here. This year, though, as of February, drivers must get a $50 permit to drive the National Park beaches here, and a majority of the coastline is closed to ORV use right now. I am happy for the turtle and bird hatchings that the closures are helping, but I'm bummed for selfish reasons. (Honestly? Our government will protect baby turtles and birds but baby humans can be killed at will? Oh, but that's another issue for another time.) 

We may still fork over the $50 to head out to the Billy Mitchell Airport ramp and spend a day or two on an ORV beach. It's one of two that we'd choose to drive to. The other is the Point, where Cape Hatteras Lighthouse shines. Thing is, the ORV beaches are the best for finding shells at this time of year. Just as the boys love to ride the waves, I love to find shells. Conch shells abound at the Point. I really wanna be there, with my conchs.

Wendi and the Conchs. That's what I sing.

 It always tickles me how the kids take to the water like they never left. 51 weeks were a blip to them.

Their sea legs come back strong. 

They find waves on instinct and sheer will. 

They hang ten and a belly button to the very end. And they grin. How they flash those grins.  

 We're blessed to be here. We know that. We sit here on comfy couches in climate controlled rooms watching HGTV. We don't even have HGTV at home, on account of we're cableless. We know God has called us to do more than just be here. He surely has a plan for all this grandeur. Cause, let's not mince words, that's what this place is.


Grandeur on a LARGE scale.

So, what are we to do with this calling? This one seven-day week out of the 52 that we have been saving for and dreaming of for 51 weeks? What would the God of the universe want us to accomplish here in what we perceive to be paradise? In one single week?

Huh. That's a tough one.
And I don't have an answer.
But I know that while we're here, while we're bemoaning the closure of the Point ORV ramp and scouring the local book store up at Frisco and steaming fresh shrimp on our electric stove and watching closely for rip currents, we know we're supposed to be about the business of God.

What in the world does He want us to do here this summer? 

 I pray we find out. I don't want to miss out on a chance to obey. To be a part of his plan. To be a blessing.

Because God has certainly blessed us. 

Pondering from the Porch

Why don't people sit on their porches anymore?

This was my view today as I read my new library book, which I think I've read before, but I'm not sure. I won't know for true till I get to the end. 

As I read, the book propped on my lap, my feet on the vinyl railing, (why don't they make wooden railings anymore?) my heart picked up a a bit realizing that on Saturday these tootsies will be buried in sand. I should redo my toenails before we leave. For my sandy toes picture.

Curt came home today with a surprise extra day off. Our travel plans have been adjusted accordingly: We'll head home (Virginia will always be home) on Thursday and stay till Saturday morning. Then we'll do the 8-hour drive over Roanoke Island (NC, not VA) and hit Hatteras Island in mid-afternoon. An added bonus to going home: Ein gets to go to Curt's mom's house. She (Curt's mom) is so excited! Ein will be, too. He may not want to come back. Come to think of it, Maxx never came back after his mom watched him.... (Why don't cats want to come live with us after going to visit Curt's mom?)

Is this for sale? Cause Ima tell you, I want to live here. In that light house. I'd close it to the general public, of course, but I'd invite my friends and family. I'd install a fancy elevator or at least a nice stair lift to spiral myself and the groceries to the top of my delux abode. I wouldn't charge a penny, either. Which reminds me, I really think we should get rid of the penny. It's just too pricey to maintain. Go here to see my thinking, which isn't my thinkin', but I do agree. 

In 5 days we'll be on Hatteras Island, near the tip of North Carolina's Outer Banks. Not living in the light house as Pete's Dragon and his family did, but we'll be on that very Island. We always stay in Hatteras Village, a nice clump of houses and small businesses with not a McD's among them. Not a single chain that I can think of except for the Life is Good store out by the ferries.

We have these matching hats. Corny, yes. But we bought them years ago just for our beach trip. And we take them every year. The house we used to rent at Hatteras Island had this cool hat rack that spelled (guess, go ahead, guess...) OCEAN. That was also the name of the house we rented. Now we rent a different domain. It has no hat rack. But, hey, you can't go choosing your houses on account of the hat racks.

The waves are always a mix of happy and rough. It varies day to day. One year Camden took a beating on a rough-wave day. He wound up with a high fever and our first case of swimmer's ear. They pulled a taper candle-sized glob of ear wax from Tall Boy's ear. Eweuuuuuu!

One year we went to the Wright Brothers' Memorial in Kitty Hawk. Honest to goodness, in spite of it being hotter than I typically even complain about, I enjoyed the feeling of being someplace historyish. But I longed for a nice air-conditioned space to ponder the accomplishments of Wilbur and the Gang.

We never eat out when we're on the island. We probably will break that trend this year since we know we'll spend a day on Ocracoke, the island south of Hatteras. But when we're on our own land, we buy fresh seafood from Vicki at Harbor House Seafood. She's taught Curt how to steam fresh shrimp to perfection! We also grill tuna and feast on her seafood enchiladas. Oh my gosh, I don't know if I can wait five more days!

This is THE POINT. Get it? It forms a point. It's where a bunch of currents, or at least two, meet up. And they make for some awesomeness. For many years, we've been able to tread water to a sandbar right off the point where at low-tide we could hang out and shell-hunt and possibly spy some sharks. Last year? No go. You couldn't even see the land to tread to. No fancy shells from there. No magic from the point. Maybe this year....

Just a favorite pic of Tall Boy modeling his hat. This is at the Point. See the able-to-make-it-to-the-other-island-spot in the distance? That was two years ago. Last year? There was no island.

A favorite picture from one year at Hatteras. Cool, huh?

Boogie boards? Anyone? My boys live for seven days of this!

I, meanwhile, live for the quiet moments. 7 days of reading on the deck. For at least 30 minutes. (I was reading Scarlett, the sequel to Gone With The Wind. That was worth reading.)

Want to know what if felt like to come over the dunes and see the Atlantic for the first time in a year? This is it. Wow. Wow. WOW.

Did I mention the winds? They're perfect for flying kites. Perfect for breezes when you can't take another second of hot sun. Perfect to make the sea oats sway and do their thing. I need some wind up here in New England and some sea oats in my line of sight. I could pretend to live on OBX. I'm a good pretender.