- Things I Love About Island Living: #15
- April on the Island
- This Easter
- Coffee with Christine: My Current First Draft Lifestyle
- Whew. That Was Close. But I’m Still Here!
- Yet Again, I Still Haven’t Fallen Off the Face of the Earth
- Thoughts on the Sea #12
- Birds Live and on Location
- The Fountain of Starbucks
- Words from Martin Luther King Jr. on Education
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I’ve written about the wild life we have here on the Carolina coast, about animals I’ve never seen in Chicago, like alligators, dolphins, geckos, crabs that invade our garage (and sometimes our house),
roaches water bugs palmetto bugs that are an unavoidable aspect of coastal living in the South, and even the corn snake that visited my deck chair one fine evening last summer.
This month, two days ago to be precise, a megalolizard visited our yard.
Baby-Girl and I rounded the corner of our backyard, happened upon him, and naturally, I screamed. Being neck-deep in a bee phobia, Baby-Girl screamed before she could even see what I was screaming about, and then jumped around me continuing to scream until she realized we were screaming about a megalolizard and not a small bee. When she learned the truth, she ceased her jumping and screaming, and continued on like someone who wasn’t walking right by a foot-long lizard.
The upside, however, is the fact that the megalolizard may be single-handedly able to obliterate the island’s palmetto bug population. If so, long live the megalolizard.
We did a marsh sweep last weekend, which is like a community beach sweep, where volunteers comes together to rid the beach of litter. Except, in this case, our setting was the salt marsh. And we, in this case, didn’t mean the community; it meant my two sons.
Oh, and in this case, a few dollars may have changed hands on account of their mother got tired of looking at the whiskey bottles amid the marsh grass but didn’t really feel like getting her own self stuck in the pluff mud.
For the record, they were not my whiskey bottles; I don’t drink whiskey. But if I did, I’m reasonably confident that I wouldn’t be pitching them into the marsh. You’d be amazed at what floats in with the tides, however; my neighbors once found an old abandoned jon boat in the marsh in front their house.
Finally, April is the month of warming temperatures and lengthening days, where Baby-Girl spends long hours by the salt marsh,
Nearly two thousand years ago, Christ died…and then rose from death to life again. But that isn’t where the story ended. A few days later, he appeared in a home and, instead of chastising a man for needing to touch to believe, he gave him what he needed.
I am so grateful for his death and for his resurrection. But I am also grateful that for doubters like Thomas and myself, he also chose to show us the wounds that would dispel disbelief.