Another American Adventure: Fernandina Beach

Tuesday, May 28, 2013

Fernandina Beach

Heading south ...

Stopped at this little place in South Carolina.

Went to the "Crab Trap" with Jon and Heather in downtown Fernandina Beach.

View from the restaurant window. I think this is St. Mary's Bay...

Jon and Heather's place ...

Headed on down to St. Augustine on US A1A (the beach road). We thought it would take us all the way, but we ended up at the bottom of an island and there was no bridge, so we had to head inland a bit to find a bridge.

Had lunch with Sebastian and Bella before heading home.

2 comments:

BarbaraMay 28, 2013 at 1:19 PM
Good to get all caught up. I had been a bit concerned ... Anyway, it all looks so lovely and lush down South. Those Clemson trees are amazing. Will John be returning to PGH?
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beth cioffolettiMay 28, 2013 at 1:54 PM
John just left this afternoon :-( ... not sure when or how this story will wind up. I am enjoying the tropical weather after that long cold winter. I feel like I'm at a spa!
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"In those first days, people said, a squirrel could run the long length of Pennsylvania without ever touching the ground. In those first days, the woods were white oak and chestnut, hickory, maple, sycamore, walnut, wild ash, wild plum, and white pine. The pine grew on the ridgetops where the mountains' lumpy spines stuck up and their skin was thinnest.

"The wilderness was uncanny, unknown. Benjamin Franklin had already invented his stove in Philadelphia by 1753, and Thomas Jefferson was a schoolboy in Virginia; French soldiers had been living in forts along Lake Erie for two generations. But west of the Alleghenies in western Pennsylvania, there was not even a settlement, not even a cabin. No Indians lived there, or even near there.

"Wild grapevines tangled the treetops and shut out the sun. Few songbirds lived in the deep woods. Bright Carolina parakeets - red, green, and yellow - nested in the dark forest. There were ravens then, too. Woodpeckers rattled the big trees' trunks, ruffed grouse whirred their tail feathers in the fall, and every long once in a while a nervous gang of empty-headed turkeys came hustling and kicking through the leaves - but no one heard any of this, no one at all."

Annie Dillard, An American Childhood.