Returning to the condo after Boneyard Beach, we met the nightly herd of neighborhood deer.
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They wander the area at will, not the least bit scared of cars or people.
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Southern deer are much smaller than the ones we’re used to seeing up north.
To me these are basically large dogs.
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We wondered where they slept in this area… it’s a beach after all, crowded with houses and very little undeveloped woods.
Did I mention we had dolphins in front of our resort twice a day? Two hours before high tide and two hours before low. They follow and drive the fish and we loved seeing them frolic.
Of course every time I tried to film them they stopped. Pay close attention here and you’ll see one break the surface.
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And speaking of sea creatures, Edisto Island is all about the turtles.
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Brightly painted and prominently displayed.
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Some of them were quite creative.
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On the main drag?
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The sand seemed to be gaining ground.
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And every time we drove by this rental house? We laughed.
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Oops. Major parking dimension miscalculation there.
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Another balcony selfie, slightly squinty as I was looking into the sun.
I’m not sure my vocabulary contains enough adjectives to properly describe how sublime Boneyard Beach at sunset can be….
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Mysterious.
Spectral.
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Otherworldly.
Striking.
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Wondrous.
Captivating.
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Preternatural.
Glorious.
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Exquisite.
Magical.
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In other words… fan-flippin-tastic!
We really didn’t want to leave but the tide was rolling in fast and there are warnings everywhere about being trapped, so we headed back down the marsh land path.
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Where the sunset was also pretty sweet.
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As we left, I knew if we had the time I wanted to come back at low tide and walk the whole beach.
Since we still had a little daylight when we got back from Charleston, we decided to go back to the Botany Bay Preserve and check out the beach we didn’t have time to explore on our first trip there.
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It’s a half mile walk from the parking lot…
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Through marsh land with some pretty funky driftwood.
After showering off the sand from our beach walk and spraying my second hairdo of the day in place, I planned on spending the day at the resort since no one in their right mind goes out during a bad storm.
No one but my husband who refuses to waste a vacation day that is.
Here’s a little glimpse of the neighborhood right beyond our door. In the rain…
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As we headed over the bridge from Edisto, the sky did not look promising.
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But my husband was determined in his quest.
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Antiquing for my man is like the U.S. postal service…. Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night will keep him from shopping for crap.
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I told him he could only buy what would fit in his suitcase. Thankfully this did not.
As usual I saw some ridiculous things…
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Fur trimmed sleigh?
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Ah, the vomit clock.
A time honored treasure.
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Its little demon hand beckoned…
But I ran for my life.
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The husband has a weird obsession with vintage wooden advertising yard sticks and was bound and determined to come home with these… even though I assured him they wouldn’t fit in his bag.
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Southern self help book.
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7 sticks of butter? This makes a wonderful last meal before your arteries snap shut and your heart gives out.
We wandered around the store until the storm got bad enough that the owner wanted to close. Husband bought his yardsticks and a few other small items including this….
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No, he doesn’t cook. But it definitely qualified as quirky.
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In particular this recipe – which was so wrong, it was right.
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My only purchase requires a bit of explanation.
Last Christmas our state lottery ran a commercial about the joys of regifting. (Don’t roll your eyes, we’ve all done it.) The ad was a huge hit… funny and heartwarming and everyone loved it.
Take a look.
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So when I turned the final corner of the store and saw this sitting on a shelf?
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I knew it was $8 well spent and couldn’t wait to see my girlfriend’s face when she opened her gift.
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Store closing around us and bad weather moving in, my husband wanted to go out to lunch. Not surprisingly everything was closed because, ya know… mini hurricane.
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Lunch was at Hardees. And I use the word lunch loosely because whatever that sandwich was it didn’t resemble food as I know it. 🤢
When I finally dragged the other half back to the resort, the pelicans were turned to the wind ready to ride out the storm.
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It’s hard to tell, but the wind was really howling. Watch the palm tree in between the buildings on the upper left.
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The afternoon and evening of Vacation Day 4 was spent playing gin rummy (with a deck that had all 4 jacks)…
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And eating a box of this…
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Which I’d never seen before… but heartily enjoyed. Beer + cheese + pasta = happiness.
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.
The Angus drawn carriage tour of Beaufort continued…
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Past Spanish moss and charming antebellum homes.
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You might recognize this tree if you’re a movie buff.
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It’s the live oak Robert Duvall sat under during The Great Santini. They filmed it in Beaufort as the author Pat Conroy is a native son.
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Beautiful homes, beautiful gardens…
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And some of the most amazing Angel Oaks I’ve ever seen.
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The Angel is the variety of live oak that droops it’s branches to the ground….
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And in Beaufort?
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The town is so enamored of their spreading glory it’s illegal to cut one down or even trim.
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Thank you Beaufort.
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I wholeheartedly agree.
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Our guided tour was a little over an hour of immersive history and I loved every cold, wrapped in a blanket, minute of it.
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There’s a strict building code near The Point that says new construction must blend with the old. I’m not sure lime green was a popular Civil War era color, but they’re charming all the same.
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I wish we’d had time to explore this museum.
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But when we disembarked the carriage a certain someone had to strike up a conversation with the guide.
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Hint- it wasn’t me.
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Though I did enjoy a little quality time with Angus.
River's world..... 