Skipped off Skinny Island again Sunday to do a little upkeep on the Gulf Coast offices of the Post.  Work went well, leaving a little time in late afternoon for a trip to the beach.  We

Treasure Island

normally go in the morning when we’re here, so we were a little surprised to see how crowded it was.  Very different scene here.  Some of you may wonder why we come over here and go to the beach, when we live at the beach.  Well, its apples and oranges, really; the Atlantic, and the Gulf.  Very different bodies of water, very different sand, very different scene, people-wise.  And this is Papa’s old stomping grounds.  Born and raised in Tampa, the Gulf will always be special to him, always like going home.

We go to Treasure Island Beach, about two miles from the house.  It’s a Gulf barrier island, and you cross beautiful Boca Ciega Bay to get there.  Have to use a parking lot and, after it many years of it being the only free one left in this part of the world, you have to pay now.  We think there should be a Special Dispensation for natives, but there isn’t.  The beach is very wide; about a quarter-mile from the parking lot to the water.   Clear, sunny skies, temp in the low eighties, a southwest wind, and packed.  Another great feature is that the Gulf always warms up faster than the Atlantic.  It’s in the mid-seventies now, about 10 degrees warmer than what we left.  Still too cold for a dip back on Skinny Island, but we went in here, and though it was rough, (for the Gulf) it felt great to swim again.  As usual, we took a walk down to John’s Pass, about a mile and a half north, not realizing what a trek it would be coming back against the wind.  Pretty good workout. 

Great Blue Heron

 This is a semi-permanent of the John’s Pass jetty.  We’ve been seeing him here for about eight years.  He hangs out around the fishermen, hoping for a handout.  Good work if you can get it.  There’s a second one that usually stations himself about a half-mile south of this one, but we didn’t see him this time.  No, they aren’t the same bird.  Also didn’t see the transgender, bikini-clad bald dude, with obvious equipment of both sexes, another beach fixture; or Soccer Boy, a middle-aged nuisance, who kicks a soccer ball down the beach in an effort to meet chicks.  Guess he doesn’t have a dog.

Very pleasant couple of hours, but as we were leaving we noticed a drum circle starting to set up, we assume for an evening of pounding.  We are not fond of drum circles.  We participated in one once, at the invitation of friends, and found it tedious and rife with control and power issues, rather than the heightened spiritual surge we anticipated.  It seems to us to be the epitome of empty-headed Culture Borrowing, like American Zennists dressing up like Japanese, but that’s not the worst.  We lived next to a Saturday night drum circle many years ago in Washington, DC, and while it was, I guess, at least authentic, being conducted in the apartment of William Rides-at-the-Door, a Lakota, it was incessantly irritating.  They are all fundamentally irritating, and lame.  (Please express indignation, if any, in the designated comments section.)

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Awakened by a wonderful thunderstorm at two forty-five a.m., which was followed by a steady, moderate rain until dawn.  A good, long-needed soaker.  We have a powerful affinity for thunderstorms, especially of the night and early morning variety.  They  permeate the sleeping, and in a semi-conscious state, ease us back to the sweet equilibrium of childhood; the fear and fascination; the wonder that went with still being new in the world.  That stayed with us through a day’s work on the Gulf side getaway.  Partly cloudy and blustery all day.  Front stalled to the south will move back north tonight.  More rain expected.

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