A sweet, spicy scent fills the air of the living room. Cinnamon rolls are baking in the oven for a breakfast al fresco on the balcony. A cloudless blue sky and shimmering waters awaits us on yet another beautiful October morning in Orange Beach.
As we enjoy our scrambled eggs and cinnamon rolls, orange juice and coffee, a pleasant breeze brushes against our faces. From nine floors below comes the sound of the rolling surf caressing our ears. A few boats, sail and power, move through the Gulf waters. From the distance comes the sound of ship’s horn, as if a giant is blowing across the top of an equally giant-sized glass soda bottle.
My oldest sister looks down towards the beach. “Those people act like they are looking for something in particular,” she says. I glance down and see a line of folks slowly walking across the sand in what appears to be a rather methodical manner.
My BIL explains they are a group of volunteers who comb the beach on pretty much a daily basis, looking for litter and for any signs of the oily balls that were an unwanted legacy of the BP oil spill.
“That’s why I like living here so much,” our BIL says. “Everything is well looked after, including the beaches.”
After all, even paradise requires some TLC, right?
Now, I find myself imagining Mr. A here, his eyes made an even more incandescent blue as they reflect the hues of the sea and sky, his hair long enough to be invitingly tousled by the breeze.
I know he isn’t a water baby, but I still like envisioning him taking a slow jog through the sand right where the water laps against it. There’s a look of contentment on his face as he enjoys the fresh air and the sunshine.
And that vision led me to contemplate all this natural beauty, so inspiring to the artistic soul of someone like RA and to Claude Monet, the artist Richard brought so vividly to life in The Impressionists.