Here at my desk, encircled in light, the outdoors dark all day with loud rain a white noise no soundtrack can replicate, Buck and Lou hunkered down and plotting in the lodge at the other end of the house, I float on a sweet, bright sea of memory, jostled by waves of nostalgia. I found a treasure trove of posts and pictures about an old house Buck and I owned for a short while out on Perdido Bay (the Florida side).
It was 2009. Some of you old pals will remember the story. I think it was a blow for you, too, when we just couldn’t make the reality sustain our dream of it. We still think about living in a shady spot on the water — a lazy river, not a bay, surely not the Gulf, and who knows? It might happen.
I’m reconstructing the old posts and pictures, and inserting them here chronologically, so if you “followers” (heh) get messages in bottles that seem out of sync floating onto your shores from me, that’s why. This was an awfully sweet, albeit short, full-of-longing chapter for Buck and me. The category, in case you go looking, is “Sugar Shack.” There’s a search box on the sidebar way down toward the bottom.
I’m headed to the kitchen to whomp up a pot of Shrimp Creole. Just the thing with this cold front blowing in.
Daily word prompt: Float