When Studly Doright came to me one chilly spring day in Illinois and told me he’d been tagged for a position in Florida, I was elated. We’d lived in Melbourne, FL, for four years before the company transferred us to Illinois, and I’d fallen in love with the white sand beaches that were only ten minutes from our Florida home.
It wasn’t until I started searching online for homes in or near Studly’s new office in Tallahassee that I realized we weren’t going to be very close to a beach. I was a bit dismayed.
Studly was already in Florida living in an extended stay hotel when I called him from Champaign, Illinois, to ask, “Where the heck is the nearest beach?”
He hemmed and hawed a bit and finally admitted that he wasn’t sure. Certainly if our positions had been reversed locating the nearest beach would have been at the top of my list of priorities. Alas, Studly isn’t a beach person. The only sand he cares about is in the traps he tries to avoid on the golf course.
Once our home sold in Illinois and I joined my husband in Florida I had two urgent tasks: find a home and find the beach. It took me awhile to find Doright Manor, but just a week to discover the beach at St. George Island. And while it’s an hour and a half drive from our house, it is a lovely place.
Yesterday I drove down through the towns of Crawfordville and Sopchoppy, Lenark Village and Carabelle. I turned left in Eastpoint and over the bridge to paradise.
St. George Island’s residents don’t allow big chains to operate on their turf, so the hotels and restaurants are mom and pop businesses.
I enjoyed a lunch of grilled mahi mahi tacos at the Blue Parrot overlooking the beach.
Then I changed into my bathing suit and set up a spot on the beach just short of the lapping waves.
The heat of the June sun was intense on my super pale body, but every now and then the clouds provided some relief. And when things got too hot, hot, hot, I waded out into the water to cool off.
I took a horrible selfie. I had on my dark sunglasses and couldn’t actually see what the picture looked like until I returned home and began editing my photos. Is it just me or is my face crooked? Also, I need cheekbones.
We’ll call this one “I Think Chipmunk Cheeks Needs a Bigger Hat.”
The photo below is my favorite of the day. I really needed an umbrella like the one pictured.
I didn’t stay too long on the beach for fear I’d get a sunburn even with SPF 50 slathered on my lily white limbs, but my brief visit to the sand and the sea restored me. I returned to Doright Manor feeling better for having made the drive. I guess it’s not all that far away after all.
Peace, people.
Praying for Eyebrowz 
It looks worth the drive
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On my way down I kept thinking how crazy I was to drive all that way just to sit on the beach, and all the way home I smiled.
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š
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Iāve always lived close to the ocean so I understand its draw. Funny, though, I seldom go to sit in the sun no matter what SPF I have on. Too much sun worshipping when I was young has led to unfortunate skin issues as an adult. This lilly white bod tries hard to stay out of the direct sun… and out of a bathing suit š.
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I wasnāt a sun worshipper in my youth. There wasnāt much appealing about laying out under the hot Texas sun with dust blowing all around.
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I love these posts of your when you write about places. Please keep doing them!
Friends of mine up north think we’re at the beach every day. It’s hard to explain to them that even though we live right near it, we still only visit it maybe once every ten days or so. I think they scratch their heads and make judgments about that. š
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She. We lived in Melbourne I went almost daily. My route to the school where I taught was along A1A. Many days Iād stop just to walk on the sand for ten or 15 minutes. Made all the difference after a racy day in the classroom.
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āSheā was supposed to be āWhenā. My thumbs are too big.
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