A Picnic At The Beach

My little boy asked for a picnic at "the beach". 

And by beach, he wasn't talking about sandy seasides & crashing waves. The little nature trail that has become our new family hot spot-- that's "the beach" he was referring to.  He's been calling it that since the very first day we drove up & saw a rocky shore line that butted up next to a smooth water front. He exclaimed with eyes wide, "We're at the beach!" 

We've got plans for a real beach vacation come next summer--one that lies on the white, sandy Florida coastline, one that has the capability to swallow this little "beach" of ours up in one gulp. But for now, my little boy doesn't know that. For now, this is the closest thing to a beach that he's ever known. And I quite like the simple-ness in that.

{I realize my son is constantly wearing this shirt. Yes, he has other shirts. In fact, he has a closet full of adorable clothing. But he insists on this shirt--every.single.day. He calls it his "cozy shirt" & will fight all day long until I give in. I'm picking my battles these days & a t-shirt just isn't rising to the top of those battles. So be warned--I'm pretty sure this isn't the end of the cozy USA shirt.}

 So one beautiful Thursday evening, we piled out the door, swung through the drive-thru at Chick-Fil-A before grabbing Daddy from the bus stop & we raced against the quickly setting sun to find ourselves a sweet spot at the beach.

A tatty quilt thrown onto the cool grass, an easy supper of chicken sandwiches & waffle fries, the background noises of squirrels rustling in the woods & water lapping at rocky banks--talk about peaceful. Talk about serene. Talk about a pretty darn splendid Thursday evening.

Jett ditched his nuggets & fries for rock climbing & running. The trees, the rocks, the grass, the golden sun--it fuels my boy & there is no harnessing his deep need to inhale & exhale in hard deep breaths, the crisp air only the outdoors can offer.

 And our Lu-Lu--not a peep out of the girl. Oh, she was in heaven. For the longest time, she laid as still as still can be, without even the slightest movement. The sights, the sounds, they all took her to a level of relaxation I've never seen out of the girl. Pure contentment. Eventually, she stretched her feet high into the air, every once in awhile allowing her toes to crawl off the side of the blanket & into the cold grass. Next time Miss Priss is in a mood of crabby & cranky & fussy--I'm taking her & we're heading to the beach for a nature induced relaxation session.

{Those toes--all spread out in the air. I heart them.}

The sun fell much too quickly behind the tree line, lighting up the skyline in vibrant shades of pink & tangerine & before we knew it, faded out of sight completely. We gathered up our things, stuffing them in the bottom compartment of the double stroller & made our way back down the winding trail--this time under the luminescent glow of a full October moon.

I'm not sure how many more adventures to the beach we have left for the remainder of this year. With every trip we take, we find our family hot spot gradually taking on a new look. The trees once gowned in leaves of fiery reds are now barren, their tawny leaves scattered on the ground below. The lush bushes once found deep in the the woods are beginning to dissipate & the remains of stick skeletons are all that is left standing in their places. Soon Autumn will wind down completely & our trips will come to a halt, altogether.

But this weekend, with a forecast of 73 degrees--you know where you we can be found...

the beach.