After being on the road for seven months, we are reveling in the pleasures of being in a house again–the roominess, the dishwasher, the bathtub, the kitchen, and the ability to walk to town. St. Simons is heaven for walkers and bike riders. Several times a week, I walk to the north end of the beach and then back through neighborhoods or along the marsh. It takes about two hours, with time for lingering.
A walk in the other direction leads to the village, the lighthouse, and the pier. They are only about a ten minute walk from our cottage, if we take a direct route.
At very low tide we can walk south on the beach to the village. But there is a small point with rocks that become submerged when the tide rises that prevents access for much of the day.
We usually walk to the pier and the village on the inland route through a neighborhood of cottages. The gardens are full of blooms this time of year.
The village main street ends at the water and the pier.
I am always drawn to the pier.
One evening, I couldn’t stop watching the boat-tailed grackles, ordinary black birds transformed by the lowering sun into iridescent creatures. This one was off by himself, grooming and preening, with full head contortions.
These three reminded of me of some preteen boys we saw fishing our first night on the pier, each trying to show the others up. The bird in middle kept puffing his chest and spreading his tail.
This serene gull sat nearby.
Until she had enough, and flew off.
Wrens were flitting between the rocks at the foot of the pier and the huge live oaks in the park.
The lighthouse is right next to the pier and, on a walk last night, this magnificent raptor was surveying his (or her?) domain from the lighthouse peak. I only had my phone for photos, but you can see how beautiful he was perched up there. It looked like an immature eagle–seemed a little large for an osprey–but I couldn’t determine what it was from the ground. If any of you can tell from this photo, let me know.
After I walked around the park and headed home as the sun started to go down and a chill was setting in, the bird was still there.
I came back with the good camera, but he was gone. The lighthouse’s faceted Fresnel lens, however, was making brilliant prisms of the setting sun.
What an exquisite evening.