After several attempts, we were finally able to reassemble a scattered (oh, yes) staff, and over Huevos Rancheros this morning, determined to forge ahead with continued publication of The Skinny Island Post, but as a weekly.  Sundays, to be specific.  All things considered, this seems to be the most efficacious way forward.

Fifty-six degrees at the Little Hacienda on Skinny Island this morning, which, in our book, is close to chilly.  We took a pre-sunrise bike ride at low tide this morning, north for two and a half miles against a brisk northwest wind, then turned around and pretty much coasted home.  North winds the rule pretty much from here on out until spring.  You get used to it.  Several Osprey along the way, diving for mullet in the shallows; a spectacular sunrise; nobody else out.

 Rising just north of our path down to the beach at the Summer Solstice, the sun is now popping up way to the south.  Collectively, we take these signs, the temperature, north winds, sun trekking south, and mullet in the surf, as evidence summer is really over.  We are ready for the change, glad to leave the continuous tedium of heat and humidity behind, (though we will still have occasional bouts into December,) but truth be told we live for summer, and it won’t be long before we are complaining of the wind and chill, and longing for that feeling only summer brings.  We readily admit to being childish in that regard, and possibly others.

 It was a good summer, with lots of beach time, good waves from several storms that passed safely out at sea, good food, good friends, good books, and only a little introspection.  A month-long road trip to the Great American West helped, in both escaping the heat for a while, and in perspective.  But perhaps the greatest experience of this summer past was spending a lot of time with this guy, grandson Lain, four years old this month.  We had him all day most Saturdays, and quite a few Friday nights for sleepovers.  A more extraordinary, beautiful, intelligent, and loving child we can’t imagine.  We are indeed blessed to have had him close all his life.   He loves the ocean and beach, and playing in the wild hammock behind the house.  We think he’s had a good start in life.

 More shore birds arriving weekly.  Plenty of Sandpipers, and a few Willets, some Golden and Black-bellied Plover.  No Skimmers yet, though we saw a large contingent over on the Gulf coast last week.  Dolphin and rays cavorting in the still-warm water.  An elegant egret gracing a sunrise. We have noted that the changes are subtle here, but you look up one day and it’s all different.  The light is clearer and from a different angle; the edges of things are somehow sharper; no snakes to be seen; the anoles disappearing one by one; an absence of cicadas.  It’s autumn on Skinny Island.