Sugar mill ruins
I have been a beach person all my life. I have stood on a lot of beaches in my time.
When you stand on the shoreline back home, be it the Atlantic beaches of Florida where my parents used to take me when I was young, or along the Pacific where I went to school for a while, or along the Carolina shores where Sara and I celebrated our wedding, or the Gulf Coast where we took the children for vacations for years, the land always seems larger than the sea. It is not true, of course, but no matter how vast the sea looks stretched out in front of you, you know that behind you is this huge expanse of country that goes on for thousands of miles. In an odd sort of way, the sea seems small in comparison.
But it is not so on St. Cecilia. Here, from certain spots, like the ridge where we were sitting that day, one can see what amounts to the edges of the entire world. Which, on the one hand, made me instantly remember how small a part of the world I actually am-whether I am sitting on the ridge looking down over the edges of a small island in the Caribbean or standing on the Outer Banks or sitting under the stoop of my studio back in Tennessee.
Across the straits
On the other hand, it reminded me that within the boundaries that are set by the limits of my vision, there is, or at least can be, a whole world in which to learn to live a life that is as interesting and astonishing as is the whole wide world itself.
I do not yet understand all of what that means to me. I am beginning to believe, however, that somewhere in between those two notions is where I am to make myself at home. That, too, when I sit still and think about it, can take my breath away.
Twilight on St. Cecilia
The first time we went riding around on St. Cecilia, we circled the island on the ring road in a couple of hours, including a stop for lunch, and were home for the napping round. The drive is not much more than twenty miles altogether. It takes us longer each time we go now; sometimes it takes two or three riding-around days per visit.
We have to see how they are coming along with the restoration of the old hotel up by the hot springs just above town, and we have to make sure that no one is sneaking a big new resort onto the windward side of the island yet. There have been rumors that someone is planning to build condos out at Three Kings Bay, and so we ride out there each time to make sure we get to see it the way it should be before someone comes along and 'improves' it. They are adding to the school near the church in the parish where we stay most often, and we want to see how the work is going.
We have begun to feel the need to keep an eye on things here.
