It has been a week ago yesterday that I slipped away for a little “sort of” adventure, for myself.  

Let me preface this story, by saying that after a “girls trip” plan began to fall apart, I was stuck with a decision to make. That decision was whether to take off on the drive alone, or give up the trip altogether. I did not like the later alternative, but lacking faith that I could get from point A to point B without hopelessly losing my way, I decided to stick to my plan and I was rewarded for my bravery by having a fantastic time with perfect sunshine filled days and special, important quality time with my oldest child. 

Somehow I managed to raise three courageous children who are successful and dauntless in the pursuit of their goals and happiness. So, I ask, how could the mother of these children find herself sitting in my position? But here I sat.  

Taking my first baby step in traveling, I am feeling pretty “bad ass” about the whole event. (Which makes the kids roll their eyes-because it is a pretty straightforward trip) I find myself ready to embark again, soon. 

In the course of these last few weeks I have not been painting, perhaps you will appreciate my efforts with the camera in lieu of painting? I hope so. 

Thursday Evening after the storms the waves were quite fearsome to behold

Folly Beach Area A Extra Large Cowry/Cowrie Shell-even though the back is missing, the shell is awesome!

Morris Island Shell Excursion-beatiful intrique tree

Edisto Island Beach-Sunday exploration trip

Edisto Island 

Pink Colored Sea Barnacles attached to the underside of the rocks at Edisto

Entrance to Private Property Flanked by two large old trees adorned with spanish moss

Another Angle of the spanish moss festooned trees changed to b&w image

 I will leave you with this, my favorite poem by John Masefield:

Sea Fever

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking,
I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.

Peace, Valerie