Waiting for the Weekend

Better days are coming. They are called Saturday and Sunday.*


Give a man a fish and he has food for a day; teach him how to fish and you can get rid of him for the entire weekend. » Zenna Scha

There is little chance that meteorologists can solve the mysteries of weather until they gain an understanding of the mutual attraction of rain and weekends.  – Arnot Sheppard

*Author unknown.

Babes in the Woods

BroJoe says he’s found Big Foot, right there on the North Carolina coast.

P1170645 P1170648 P1170651 P1170652 Bigfoot

Looks like a teddy bear picnic  to me.


“Always respect Mother Nature. Especially when she weighs 400 pounds and is guarding her baby.”
― James Rollins, Ice Hunt

“What on earth would I do if four bears came into my camp? Why, I would die of course. Literally shit myself lifeless.”
― Bill Bryson, A Walk in the Woods: Rediscovering America on the Appalachian Trail

The -bers Are Coming

Just when you think summer may last forever, the calendar flips over to September.  Occasionally,  a hint of fall teases the air, but September temperatures at the beach usually soften to golden perfection.   The days are noticeably shorter.  BroJoe can sleep a bit longer and still be at the beach well before sunup.

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The Autumnal Equinox will arrive on September 23.  Once  the -ber months begin,  it still takes the ocean months to cool.   September ocean temps are usually only three degrees less than those of August.  By October, they drop about ten more, which still keeps them in the 70’s.   The chilly temperatures arrive in Novem-brrr and Decem-brrr .

The beach belongs to the tourists until Labor Day.   After that, the wild bucks go back to their respective schools and the wild ponies of The Outer Banks roam the beach more freely.   Year-rounders begin to enjoy the luxuries of autumn. . . available parking spots, no waiting for tables, no traffic fumes.

Our memories of the ocean will linger on, long after our footprints in the sand are gone. Anonymous

When anxious, uneasy and bad thoughts come, I go to the sea, and the sea drowns them out with its great wide sounds, cleanses me with its noise, and imposes a rhythm upon everything in me that is bewildered and confused.  – Rainer Maria Rilke

Summer ends, and Autumn comes, and he who would have it otherwise would have high tide always and a full moon every night. – Hal Borland