I have always loved the ocean, which I am sure I have mentioned before. My mother retired to Hilton Head Island many years ago, within easy walking distance of one of the white, sandy expanses of beach on Hilton Head Island, SC. She’s 92 and hasn’t walked there since her knees gave out. I try to make it for sunrise but usually end up sleeping too late.
When I visited this time, I walked down on a cool April afternoon. A few brave souls were in the water, but mostly there was just a scattering of people. The sun was bright but the wind did not carry any warmth. I was inspired to write a poem, while huddled against a wooden box that holds beach rental items, with fine white sand sifting into my sandals. Here goes:
Gray brown waves/Riled by breeze/Sizzling the sand
Wayfarers in neon green, purple, blue/Constricting nature into backdrop
Weathered wooden chairs/With no warmth/Awaiting summer occupants
Solitary seagull/Feathers ruffling/Scavenging scraps
Tiny seashells/Silent, testifying/To ocean depths
Soon, spring shall yield/To summer, hot, frenzied/Smelling of cocoanut
No longer fresh.
South Carolina. None of them were Southerners by birth, but no matter. There seem to be many more relocated Northerns (like our family) or Midwesterners than actual natives in HHI these days, since the original 
ora and fauna. Or go kayaking, parasailing, paddle boarding, etc. etc. We went on a very nice sunset/fireworks boat tour with my sister’s Rotary Club members. Dolphins obligingly made an appearance, as well as the full moon. It was a good respite from the Washington, DC area swelter – which comes for most of us without a beach and/or our own swimming pool – and work. From sunrise (which I always try to get up in time for, and usually don’t make it) to sunset (which is great from the water), HHI is a nice place to visit.