The Golden Hour

I know I mentioned that we recently returned from vacation. What I may not have mentioned was that it was almost entirely thanks to the generosity of my parents that we were able (for the second year in a row) to spend a week on the Gulf Coast in Florida, lazing about and forging a circular footpath leading from the house to the pool, from the pool to the beach, and then back again.

We slept soundly.

We read many books.

We all came home with tanned limbs, despite our religious application of sunscreen.

We watched spadefish circle our ankles in the water, and captured sand dollars and starfish in the waves.

Ella learned to swim fearlessly under water, and we delighted not only in her sudden progress, but also at the sight of her lithe little body wriggling like a fish beneath the rippling blue surface.

We cooked and shared meals with my parents and my sister's little family of 3.

We witnessed my niece's first flight in an airplane, and her first moments on a Florida beach.

We imbibed mojitos and pina coladas at sunset each evening...
...and we bathed in the light of the golden hour.





"small waves, slowly paced, broke lullingly along a thinning
beach; I listened to my child sing her part of this ceremony."

[excerpt from The Evening Light Presuming our Wishes by R.D. King]