The Island in Winter

It was snowing in the north Alabama countryside...and Nashville...

Several inches of winter wonderland snow expected...

Schools were closing...

Oh, it was falling, falling, falling...

Big beautiful flakes...

But it did not stop her...No...

She got into her Mercedes and drove, and the snow fell...

Beautiful, enchanting snowfall...

And she drove on...

South...

Toward her island...

There is a point when you reach the salt air...

Six hours of driving south, and it is in the air...

Salt air and sea mist...

Upon arrival,

One must quickly bundle up and go to the shore...

Breathe...Just breath it in.

Ahhhh.....Island time.

Winter island time...

And so it is that she is a sunset chaser...

Every single day...by the shore,

listening to the sea birds,

and breathing in the salt air...

Sea mist in her long, blonde, wavy hair...

Wrapped in cashmere,

sipping hot mulled wine,

soaking in the beauty,

and capturing every moment with her beloved camera...

And always...

Always...

The seabirds embrace the beauty...

The peace...

The tranquility...

The love...

I think they know her...

I think they say, "We have missed you."

"Where have you been?"

"You've been away for such a long time."

"Welcome home."

Back at the island cottage,

potatoes are roasted in olive oil, and Herbs de Provence...

A tray of cheese, grapes and New Orleans French Bread are prepared...

 Italian wine is poured into crystal glasses with sail boat etchings...

The Sandpiper is in the DVD player...

Bedside books are...

"The Old Man and the Sea"...Ernest Hemingway,

and "Islands in the Stream"...

"Shell Seekers"...

Sail into the Mystic...

Dreaming...

Somewhere on an island,

wrapped in cashmere by a warm fire and candle glow...

Blessings,

Yaya