Summer Storm

It starts in the sky. Clouds darken, fill, blackening the horizon. Moments later, a distant rumble, a flash of lightning...all signs of an incoming summer storm. I grab my camera and dash outside to meet it, mood whipped into a frenzy from too many phone calls, too many distractions. I need a moment with Mother Nature, and she's going to provide me with a temper tantrum much like the one I've been craving to throw all day.

The temperature, 100 degrees in the shade, begins to plummet as the storm crosses the sun's path. The wind picks up, howling between the buildings, whipping the tree limbs back and forth, like She's waving a white flag--begging to release the fury. The sky darkens to a deep indigo. The weather vanes quiver, then begin to spin.

All the frustration, irritation, and anger I've felt in the last few hours start to pop up to the surface with each picture I take. My fingers tingle. I take a breath in, let it out, trying to calm my frazzled nerves. As the storm builds around me, I feel my tense muscles begin to release. And then--a flash of lightning splinters across the sky. "One one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thousand," I mutter under my breath. It's closing in. It's coming. My bruised emotions are drowning in the excitement of the brewing storm.

As the first few raindrops kiss my forehead, I lift my camera and snap pictures of the clouds rolling in. The timpani of the thunder matches the beat of my heart. The little hairs on my arms begin to stand on end as the heart of the storm gets closer, closer, closer.

The raindrops grow fatter, dampening my hair, sliding down my neck. And still I snap as many photos as I can while shielding my camera from the oncoming deluge. The clouds reach their boiling point, wind howling all around me, and yet, for the first time all day, I feel calm.

When the bottom drops out, and the rain comes down in sheets, I retreat indoors to watch the storm from the window. Mother Nature is unrelenting, pounding the pavement in her midnight blue high heels, washing away the heat of the day with her summer storm. I sit and watch, enthralled, the chill from the air conditioning setting into my bones. The phone rings; I ignore it. And sink into the calm after the storm.

The Land I Love

People ask me all the time what it is that I love so much about Charleston, South Carolina. I've answered that question a hundred different ways. I could go on and on about the beaches, the historical landmarks, the museums and restaurants and hot spots. I've told you at length about The Tree that calls to you from the heart of Charleston. There's just something about this place, something magical, that fills my heart with gladness that we live here.


There's a feeling about Charleston, like a heartbeat, that creates a unique environment all its own. The oak trees, the Spanish moss, the sweltering heat and swarms of mosquitoes, the sweetness of its tea and the kindness of its people...there are a hundred reasons why I love Charleston as much as I do.


But sometimes, words don't do an adequate job of it. Sometimes, the land I love can only be captured in photos. And even in those photos, though you can catch a glimpse of what makes Charleston the most beautiful place on earth, you still miss that feeling, that heartbeat.


But I still try to capture it, each time we venture out of our home. You want to know why I love Charleston so much? Let me try to explain in pictures.

The Tree

There's just something about trees.


Here in the South, we have live oak trees. They are huge, and leafy, and they drip with silvery Spanish moss.


But there's one Tree in particular that is more than just another tree. There are few words in the English language that can truly explain this Tree. "Majestic" comes to mind. It's the Angel Oak Tree on John's Island. And it is a sight to behold.

We have tried to explain The Tree to our friends and family. We allow our eyes to grow wide and our voices to lower to a reverent whisper when we speak of its beauty. But its not until we take them to stand beneath her boughs that it truly makes sense. We tell them what to expect, and how they will react. We tell them "you will marvel at its girth, its grandeur, its grace. And you will be awed."

People pilgrimage to The Tree. They come to sit at the base of her massive trunk. They come to place their hands upon the bark. They come to breathe in the smell of earth and fallen leaves. They come to listen to the music of the wind as it sings through the limbs. Conversations stop as they first encounter her, and voices are immediately hushed to a whisper. There's a reverence here, a sense of awe and wonder, of piety. With faces lifted to heaven, a deep spirituality washes over all who enter here.

Pictured: Brian's Aunt Tina--rock star, true friend, and fellow tree enthusiast.

After a few moments, murmured questions arise. "How old is it?" you will ask. And we will respond, "They estimate over 1500 years old." You'll cross your arms, close your eyes, and think back to your high school world history class. You'll think of all the life that was lived beneath the boughs of The Tree. The wars that were fought, the homes that were built and destroyed, the people in bonnets and hoop skirts or feathered headdresses and deerskin leggings who must have journeyed here as well. You think of the hands that have tended The Tree. The people who have dedicated their lives to keeping it healthy. The men or women who have weeded around its base, propped up the limbs that were beginning to crack, and carefully removed those damaged by wind and storm. And you'll place your hands on the rough bark, run your fingers over the lichen and the moss and the knots. And you'll place yourself in The Tree's history, too.

And when the time comes to leave, you'll find it hard to pull away. You'll look back over your shoulder, taking in Mother Nature's imposing work of art, and you will sigh. And as your car bumps down the dirt path of Bohicket Road, you will try to put your adoration into words. And you know, deep in your heart, that The Angel Oak will call to you until you meet again.

Winter Daydream

I pull my car into the parking lot, anticipation already buzzing under my skin. Easing into a vacant spot (though all of them are vacant, at this hour), I turn off the ignition and allow myself a moment of sheer joy at the prospect of my next few hours alone. As I open the door of my car and climb out, the saltwater air fills my nostrils and the wind runs its fingers through my hair.


Quickly, quickly now, I grab my belongings--bag and towel and chair and umbrella--and lock my car up tight. Minutes later, my feet are in the sand, and I'm in heaven.

I kick off my shoes. The sand, still slightly chilled from the night before, feels good between my toes. The sun is barely risen--it's just past seven a.m.--and the beach is deliciously deserted. I stake my claim on a small plot of sand, plop down my chair, and decide to leave the umbrella for later. I want nothing to separate me from the sky, the clouds, the sun. I want to revel in the warm air. Let Mother Nature embrace me today.

I walk down to the surf, and let the waves break around my ankles. It is unusually chilly for this time of year. I wonder if there's a storm brewing beyond the horizon, but I clear my head of those thoughts, wanting to enjoy this moment without worry of rain clouds. A solitary paddle surfer inches by slowly, no doubt enjoying this beautiful summer sunrise as much as me. I stand and watch him, until he is under the sun. My chair beckons me, and so, I take a seat and stare at the sky for awhile instead.

The week's worth of stresses slowly melt away. There is no paperwork, no phone calls, no rush and bustle here. There is only the wind. The sky. The water. The smells I love permeate my senses: salt. Fresh air. The sweet smell of sunscreen, like so much coconut. I close my eyes and drift, letting the magic of the sea envelop me. After a moment (an hour?) the caw! caw! of seagulls wake me from my reverie. They take flight, the black tips of their wings shiny from the morning dew.

The sun rises higher in the blue sky, and my worries about a summer squall completely disappear. The day grows warmer still, and I know my few hours of solitude will soon come to an end. Still-sleepy children will race with delight to the surf, while parents smile and take pictures and set up camp amidst the dunes. Joggers will begin to parade by, sweat glistening on their tanned skin, arms pumping to the music in their ears that I cannot hear. Dogs of all ages and shapes and sizes will join the children in the water. And my quiet moment with nature will be over.

But that's ok. I've come prepared for the beach invasion. As I hear a child's squeal of glee over my shoulder, I slide my paperback out of my bag. The page is still folded down, and slightly damp, from last week's beach trip. I settle back in the chair, burying my feet in the sand as I stretch out, and dive into a book I've already read three times. The sun warms my shoulders, the sounds of people playing drift away, and I let the sea soothe my frayed nerves. I might take a nap later. Or a quick dip in the ocean. My schedule is wide open. The only plans for the day are to relax. Enjoy. Indulge.

A Sneak Peek Into Our Vacation-Type Fun

Those Places I Adore

When you close your eyes and imagine you could be anywhere in the world, where would you be?


Would you be relaxing on a beach in Malibu? Hiking the trails of the Appalachian Mountains? Perhaps you'd be riding Space Mountain, sailing the Caribbean, or snorkeling off the coast of Australia.

Here are my top five favorite places in the whole world, in no particular order.


Las Vegas, Nevada:

It's loud. It's flashy. It's tawdry and obscure and hot. But as much as I love the flashy lights, the gambling, and the night life (ask me about the ginormous margarita my brother-in-law, Timm, bought for me last time we were there) the real reason behind my love for this city lies in the people who live there.


Surprisingly, this country girl who's spent her life knee-deep in crab grass found herself captivated by the beauty of the desert. I love how quiet it is at night. I love how blue the sky looks against the sand. I love how the horizon stretches on and on forever, with nothing obstructing the view. I love how the sand shimmers like water in the morning sun. The desert is haunting in its beauty. And I'd love to spend a quiet evening, sitting in a lawn chair in my father-in-law's back yard, talking over a cold beer.


Except there's no such thing as a "quiet" evening with my father-in-law, so I'll settle for a not-so-loud one.


Oriental, NC

This quiet little waterfront town reminds me of Capeside, the fictional town in Dawson's Creek.


Maybe that's because the guy who wrote the show lived there.


Brian's extended family--his aunt, uncle, grandparents, cousins--live here. It is the most picturesque little town you can imagine: people riding their bikes down the street always wave as cars passing by, the guy at the pizzeria doesn't just know your name but what you like on your pies, town gatherings are more like family reunions than picnics with strangers. 


The waterfront of Oriental is breathtaking. The people are friendly. And the memories we make with family there are what we'll talk about when we're old and grey.


I'd rather be on Aunt Tina's porch, sipping a cup of hot tea and talking than any place in the world. That, to me, is the true definition of relaxation.


Boone, NC

If you've never visited the mountains of North Carolina, it should be on your bucket list. ESPECIALLY in the fall. Boone is my college town--I'm an Appalachian State University grad. Don't get me wrong--I am a beach bum through and through, but Boone is truly one of the most gorgeous places I've ever been. And I had the privilege of living there for 4 years.


There's nothing quite like a crisp, cool autumn morning in Boone. Nature paints her own masterpiece in the colors of the leaves. A drive down the Blue Ridge Parkway will take your breath away at every single turn. There's hiking, biking, camping, fishing---Boone is definitely friend to any outdoorsman. And if you love to take pictures---well, just look at the collage above. 


I haven't been back to Boone since I graduated in 2003, and it's high time for a visit. We'll be making plans to rent a cabin and walk the hallowed halls of my alma mater soon.


Charleston, SC

I have the distinct pleasure of living somewhere that is on this very list. We are a short, 40 minute drive from downtown Charleston, and it is one of my favorite places to be. You can stand anywhere downtown, throw a rock (although don't, cuz that might hurt someone) and hit a fantastic restaurant, bar, museum, or any other all around awesome place to see. The architecture will take you back to a time before automobiles, cell phones, and iPads. There's an air of southern hospitality at every turn, and you'll be greeted with a "hey Ya'll," everywhere you go. 


I love everything about Charleston: the food, the wine, the history, the houses, the waterfront, the beaches....


Wait? Did I say beach? That brings me to my next favorite place...


The Beach

It doesn't really matter which beach (although I'm partial to the Isle of Palms here in Charleston, because it's where we got married). Give me sand to bury my feet in, surf to swim in, and sunshine, and I'm one content lady. Any season of the year, any time of day, the beach is my number one place to reflect, reminisce, relax and rejuvenate.


Truly, though, my favorite time on the beach is early morning. I like to arrive before all the other beachgoers. When the sun is barely peeking above the clouds, and the only ones I'm sharing the beach with are the occasional jogger or surfer. I love watching the sky go from gray to pink to brilliant blue as the sun rises. I love sitting perfectly still in my little beach chair and watching the sandpipers skitter over the sand with their little legs, looking for their breakfast. I love the roar of the ocean--that sound that washes out everything else and allows you to be at peace with yourself. 


So, reader...if you could go anywhere in the world, to your most favorite place...where would it be?


Feel free to come with me to the beach. Pull up some sand and have a seat. I promise to bring a picnic. And sunscreen. SPF a bazillion.

Meet & Greet with Manny the Meerkat

Meet Manny.

Manny. The Meerkat. That's right, I said meerkat.

We met Manny at our local Toys-R-Us store one fateful winter's night. My husband, who is an avid collector of all things Transformers, and I were perusing the aisles when we happened upon this adorable little Meerkat. Since we were huge fans of Meerkat Manor, we were immediately drawn to his adorable little face. At first, we were a bit confused, because we thought Manny might be an employee of TRU...

Once we determined that this wayward little meerkat was NOT, in fact, an employee (he wasn't wearing a name tag, you see), B immediately whipped out his cell phone and took this craptastic picture. We felt in our hearts that this little meerkat deserved a good home, and so B tucked him under his arm, marched up to the register, and we legally adopted Manny. 


Manny dreams of seeing the world. He talks often of the green hills of Ireland, the patisserie's of Paris, the beaches of Rio De Janeiro. 


But for now, he roams the Low Country of South Carolina, and awaits the day when he can pack up and head for the destinations of his dreams.


One day, little meerkat. One day, you will see the world...

♪♫The HILLS are alive....with the sound of music...♪♫

If you would like Manny to come and visit your part of the world, and if you're willing to send us photo documentation of his stay, please let us know! Our goal is to have a photo journal of all of Manny's adventures for him to keep once he settles down. And to help realize his dream of seeing the beauties of this world we live in.