(I have no idea where this photo was taken. It was just for demonstration of high waves from a gale.)

We’ve experienced hard rains at the beach before. But yesterday was my first “gale warning”. I knew that meant hard rain and strong winds. I’ve never experienced sustained winds of 34-47 knots over a period of several hours with waves reaching eight to ten feet or higher. I would have loved to have gone out to the beach to take photos at the height of the storm, however it was raining so hard and there was standing water all over the place. There was a time when I was so grief crazed that I stood in the surging surf a ways south of here during the tail end of a hurricane. Looking back on those pictures, I realize no sane individual would do such a thing. My better angels told me to stay put and knit and nap yesterday…which is exactly what I did.

Mr. FixIt did venture out for a little bit yesterday afternoon and game back in looking like a drowned rat…soaked to the skin. I bundled him up in a fuzzy blanket while he sipped hot tea to revive himself. I ended up looking for a photo of high surf from a gale and this is what I found. It is not mine…the photographer is Gail Johnson. I have to say…it’s an incredible photo. 

I’m hoping the winds settle down today. Today’s high is only 59° but it will be sunny and gorgeous. We’ll get back out on the beach. I also want to go to Knitting Addiction for my yearly visit and have lunch at High Cotton…our favorite BBQ joint down here. I finished knitting another hat last night and started a pair of socks. As I’m sitting here writing this, I can hear the surf churning in the distance…an ever present background white noise that rises and falls with regularity. I can hear the occasional car pass on Highway 12…the main drag that goes up and down the length of the islands known as The Outer Banks. We are on a portion of the island that isn’t quite a half mile wide, located between the Atlantic Ocean and Currituck Sound. The smell of the salt on the cool and constant breeze washes over me and settles me.

I didn’t grow up a “beach goer”. Our family didn’t have money for extravagant trips. Our idea of a proper vacation was staying with my Uncle Bud and Aunt Viv for a week in the mountains. Mom would stay and chat with my aunt all day while my dad would go fishing in the many trout streams. My brother and I played with our cousins and thought it was a big time. 

Mr. FixIt’s family always went to the beach. One set of grandparents lived near Virginia Beach so sand was in their blood. From a very young age, Mr. FixIt’s grandmother would load up four little boys under the age of ten, pack a big old canvas army tent, and head to the rustic campground down on the tip of Hatteras Island. They would camp for a month…grandma and grandsons…no electric, no water, cooking over a campfire. For a MONTH! That woman was the definition of a steel magnolia.

In the sixty-five years since that wonderful grandma introduced her wild and wooly grandsons to beach camping, Mr. FixIt has only missed ONE year coming down here. Showing this place off to me has been one of his greatest pleasures. There’s always something to do and see…again and again. I want to go see the ponies up in Currituck. There were four new babies born this spring. I want to go to the Elizabethan Gardens again. They are lovely. I’m sincerely hoping we have at least ONE day warm enough to sit out on the beach while Mr. FixIt fishes in the surf. 

Another day done. Four more to go.

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“Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.”

Psalm 119:105 ESV