The beach is like a second living room.
There is something about hearing the waves break and fussing over sand between your toes. It is such a calm place to hang conversations on sea grape tree branches and to allow the ocean breeze to fill the pauses and to cleanse any misunderstanding with its salt. Most families park their cars and dining tables there for the day, but I go for short moments.
And the other day, I took some flowers with me, flowers in colorful splotches like they had been water-painted onto my two-year-old dress from Express. In my non-beach dress, I sat among the spotted branches of the sea grape tree, fully amused with the mongooses (herpestidae) running rampant in the bushes near by, and for the first time, I heard them ‘worked up’ and in a fight.
Those little suckers are, according to what I had been told, responsible for wiping out the snake population on St. Martin. I wonder now if they were confused about my shoes, its “kick and stab” shape, confused that it had the skin of a snake. [Anne Klein iflex Harquin Slingback pump]
(For those who didn't know, the sea grapes turn velvety purple when they are ready to be picked; its seed is hard and full in the center unlike “regular” grapes. At the beach the sea grape tree is at home.)
Photographer—D.C. (thank you & bisous)
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