We returned from a lovely stay at Chincoteague on Saturday, having compacted our usual two weeks there to two nights.
Our hotel overlooked the Chincoteague Channel. We could sit on our balcony and watch the sun set and listen to the cries of the birds. The hotel served a complimentary breakfast, so we would eat outside at a table overlooking the channel and watch the aggressive, speckle-headed seagull patrol the pier and chase away the other gulls. We watched a mother duck and her brood of very young duckling cross the grass to the side of our breakfast terrace. The ducklings were so little that they huddled all around her in a circle as they walked. The speckled-headed gull didn't like having them around and even pecked the head of one duckling.
We couldn't do everything we usually do in Chincoteague. No biking, for example. But we had ice-cream at Mr. Whippy and the Island Creamery, went to the beach, swam in the hotel pool, ate at Maria's, Bill's and Steve's (all these first names; you'd think we knew these people) restaurants, shopped, read and went to the movies.
As Roger said, it feels as if we've never left Chincoteague, even though we haven't been there since last summer. It is our home away from home and a relaxing place to be.
When we got home, I was more aware of humidity and stagnant air here after the fresh air of Chincoteague, beautiful as this part of the country is. And my worries redescended. Nobody had looked at our house while we were gone. I am getting concerned about finding a renter. My worries are being increased by the constant bad news about the economy. My inner fascist comes out, and I'm driven to have the house looking perfect all the time, because that is something I can control. Slowly but surely Roger and I are adding small improvements. While everyone tells us horrible stories about renters, I am trying to block all that out and focus on making our house a gift to the people God will send us.