Ceci's Garden

Ceci (the same one who has let my violet's dry up each time I return to Maracaibo) greeted me this year with the idea of a flower garden on her deck. We put together a mix of flowers and herbs to please us both - she has a pretty flower garden and I get to potter around and cook with my fresh herbs.

I insisted on a geranium. They are so dependable and forgiving. My grandfather used to keep geranium "trees" in his green house all winter. When I first went away to college he gave my my own geranium tree for my dorm room. Ours was a bit sparse when we bought it, but has adapted well to potted bliss.

We also have a begonia, which is bursting out of its container, some struggling snap dragons, and other decorative species.

But my babies are the herbs. The basil, lemon basil and rosemary I rooted from cuttings given to me (Thanks Toni!). We bought the parsley and chive plants. The chives are now occupying my abandoned violet pot. They give me something to nurture and harvest for soups and sauces, and since I am deep into Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, it also makes me feel a bit closer to local sustinance. The Jersey tomatoes (Diane has gifted us several delicious heirlooms), corn and peaches, combined with the local seafood make me feel somewhat satisfied with my localized eating. And I'm sure my balcony herbs are properly stressed, growing over a busy (relatively speaking - we are on an Island after all) traffic light without any pesticides.

Storm Rising

The collision of hot and cold air masses gave rise to one of the most spectacular storm fronts that I have seen. The ultimate result was heavy rain, hail and wind, but the coming attractions were exciting. The sky between the dark clouds was often almost turquoise, and the effects in the clouds resembled sand paintings. In short it was close to undescribable and the pictures don't quite catch to total splendor.
We had thought to have lunch at a bayside restaurant, but our plans were abbreviated by the impending storm. We sat and had a beer as we watched it arrived, then dashed back to the dock and shelter.

True Island Living

Last Sunday Andy took us to visit a friend who spends his summers on a private sandy island in the middle of the bay. He lives there with his dog, Hershey, working on the custom-made rods and fishing flies that he creates - and chasing off trespassers who can't seem to read the privacy signs posted.

The house is surrounded by beauty - grasses and water - visited by egrets and ducks, and is close enough to the main Island to scoot over by boat in a few minutes for supplies or lunch.

I did notice a TV inside, but he has no desire to have internet to avoid spending all his time on-line. After all, e-bay is a great place to locate fishing tackle and supplies.


I would absolutely love to spend a summer here. I'm sure that by the time the fall hunting season rolled around I would be ready to head back to more solid ground. There are several duck blinds among the grasses that must get good use. But my favorite scenery is the golden fall grasses against the slate grey bay waters - followed closely by the summer grasses on the water. This is one spectacular island.

We're Back - with a difference

Randy and I actually returned to the Island early in July, right after I returned from Spain. My camera gave up the ghost on that trip, however, and I just replaced it with a newer more reliable model.

We are not living in Barnegat Light this summer. We are staying with Ceci in her apartment in Ship Bottom, at the end of the causeway from the mainland.

We're still travelling back and forth to and from Barnegat Light almost every day - to Kubel's, to the house on 12th Street, to the Post Office where our mail still arrives.

Ship Bottom is more built up, more shops and restaurants, more traffic, more people. It is about 4 blocks from bay to ocean, instead of the two in Barnegat Light. But it is still the same Island, and anyone who comes over the causeway and turns north goes right past our door.

We're back, where the gulls are.