photo by PGR 2013
"It's also the time of the year when the southwesterly winds blow all the flies and warm air in from down south, so the horses may be coming out here to get a little relief from the biting bugs. A biologist will tell you that there is no reason for them to be out here because all of their food and water is behind the dunes, but I like to think in a sort of "Zen" way that maybe they just like to stand on the beach once in a while, listen to the ocean and feel the breeze in their manes just like we do." I look in the rear view to see Nicole is staring at the sea and Mrs. Drummond is listening intently, so I wrap up that half-spiel and get ready for the next. Mrs. Drummond puts her camera away as I finish speaking, and makes that face that people make when they feel sorry for you. She didn't see me watching her. They never do.
I hit the gas and urge the truck out of the rut by the water to avoid the coming crowd and start hopping the front end from rut to rut across the soft white until I'm next to the dunes. Mrs. Drummond pulls the camera again and starts shooting the sand piles.
"Look kids" she says. "Remember in Rehoboth?" she asks them. "We had a ball sliding down those dunes there?" she pulls a yellow Easter bonnet with a pink ribbon and a bow from the bag and puts it on the girl child. "Charles?" she grabs the boy's arm."Do you want me to get your hat?" she asks.
"NO!" says the boy, as green globules from his Laffy Taffy stream down his lower jaw and onto his little-man khaki shorts. "Look at you!" exclaims Mrs. Drummond, reaching into her bag of tricks for a moist wipe. "That's why I didn't wawna bring snacks and candies an nat out eeya." the bemoaned mother moped.
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