Winter can be long and harsh in Maine… and though it hasn’t been as cold or as snow covered as previous years, keeping a sense of humor through the dark months is important.
Not wanting to waste any precious time on our week long vacation, day four threw a monkey wrench in my carefully planned trip.
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We woke to overcast skies, an egret in the pond and a forecast of what turned out to be a mini hurricane. Heavy rain, high winds and dangerous surf are not prime beach resort conditions.
And if that wasn’t bad enough, I burned breakfast. Again…. due to the stupid flat surface stove that had two burners in one.
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High level heat if you turned right, high level heat if you turned left. This proved too much for my under caffeinated morning brain to handle and henceforth, the husband was on his own when it came to eggs.
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But at least the dish sponge was happy.
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Not having walked the beach since we got there, I forced my spouse onto the sand before the storm arrived. That’s his arm to the right of the photo, pointing out which unit was ours. I’m not sure why as we had just exited it and I was unlikely to forget that quickly.
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My husband is not a beach guy, not an idle walker. He needs a destination and purpose…
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I told him pleasing his wife of 40 years should be motivation enough.
😉
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We had the beach to ourselves, but it was cool, dark, damp and hellaciously windy.
We’d heard quite a few locals mention Hunting Island lighthouse (which is the only lighthouse in South Carolina open to the public) and since we were in the area, we decided to check it out.
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Paying the unexpected entry fee at the gate, we drove down the twisting, turning road.
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It felt a bit like the forest primeval with dense vegetation and palms lining both sides.
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At the end there was a parking lot and our first glimpse of the lighthouse.
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The views of the Sea Islands were supposed to be great from the top and I was anxious to climb.
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We approached…
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Entered the gated area….
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Took the required wind blown selfie…
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And after climbing the entry steps to the door… read the sign saying it was closed.
Of course it was.
Thank you Mr. Gatekeeper for taking our money but not sharing that fact. Grr. 😡
Was it worth the $20? Sure.
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See there? That used to be the light keeper’s house.
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And my husband found a fascinating rail contraption used to move the lamp oil.
Fabric pattern for chair, ottoman and pillows ? A possible check.
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Flooring? Check.
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Solid fabric for sofas? A box we can’t seem to check.
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An interior designer I spoke with said I was going about this all wrong because a room should be built around the rug. Not willing to start over but interested to see if finding the perfect rug could help…
I grabbed a girlfriend and shopped.
It was not at all helpful.
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I wanted to draw in some more color. Do you see much color in the showroom above?
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Yes, some of them blended with the fabrics.
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Some of them quite nicely.
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But they were just an extension of the same palette.
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And while I liked a few of them …
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Nothing screamed take me home.
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So solid fabric searching continued.
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Fruitlessly.
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Blah, blah, blah.
Having such a terrible time with that blue pattern I tentatively chose another.
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Two blues, yes. But at least there’s rust, burgundy brown and cream mixed in.
After our horse drawn carriage tour of Beaufort…(did you say Byoo-fert like I taught you?)
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We strolled along the harbor for a spell.
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Then headed over the bridge to explore the Sea Islands.
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Since the husband was hungry we stopped for a late lunch. Not much was open this time of year but we found a spot on the marsh called Johnson Creek Tavern.
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It was an unassuming little place, and while I don’t know exactly what I was expecting…
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It definitely wasn’t this.
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Every square inch of the place was covered in money.
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Yes, as in real U.S. currency. Ones, fives and tens. Most had names or funny sayings written on the face.
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One bad margarita….
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Some run of the mill hushpuppies with, oh the horror, margarine …
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And a terrible bowl of gumbo later, we decided we wouldn’t be eating lunch here… but we did marvel at the decor and inquire about its origins.
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It started at the bar decades ago as these things do. The first dollar spent, a big tip, a foreign bill brought back from faraway lands. But then it grew…
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And grew and grew.
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Now… they harvest the bounty every so often and donate it all to charity. Last year a veterans group was the happy recipient of over $11,000.
River's world..... 