My house is located about 10 minutes from the Atlantic Ocean. Maybe less, as the crow flies, but there is a whole bay between me and the barrier island, and thus this crow has to fly across the 79th Street Causeway to North Miami Beach… The 10 minutes doesn’t include finding a parking spot, but that’s not too hard to do late on a Sunday afternoon in September.
I love the ocean. I love watching storms roll in. I love the ocean at night, and in the early morning. I love floating in saltwater, and getting salty. Waves crashing. Seaweed. I dig a good, relentless easterly sea breeze like today.
Unfortunately, the sun hates me. Most of my beach prep time is devoted to planning out how I will keep the sun from cooking my pale hide. Once at the beach, I am the person who people assume is British or Canadian. (Nope. Not for a quite a few generations now. Alas, evolution is a slow, slow process. )
The result is that I almost NEVER go to the beach. Which is ridiculous. There is so much more to being oceanside, than just baking in the sun (something I don’t do). Why not take advantage of this wonderful resource so close to home? Besides the gasoline to get there, and feeding a parking meter, it’s free! Well, after reading a few articles this past week about how healthy it is to spend time in seawater, and maybe a subconscious urge to get some vitamin D, I decided to make the arduous (10-minute) trek.
Unfortunately, my swimming dreams were curtailed, as the water was adulterated with THOUSANDS of MOON JELLYFISH!
A truly intrepid cook would have brought a few of these home to cook up for dinner. A more intrepid swimmer would have swum with these jellyfish (apparently they aren’t as nasty as a lot of other kinds….they sting, but it’s not like a Portguese Man O’War. But these guys were big, they felt weird bumping up against my legs, and I was a scaredy-cat).
So I walked and walked and walked, and sat and read my Nook-book, and stood in the surf, avoiding jellies while intermittently splashing myself with saltwater, like a puddle duck. It was wonderful. I even took a moment to take my own “hot dog legs” photo, except mine are more like weisswurst legs:
Happy end of summer!