Time Of The Season

Cloud wisps mist off the ocean while a quality band covers Sweet Home Alabama. A two-hour drive converted me from not wanting a stitch of clothing on my body to now being bundled up in thick pajama pants, a down jacket, and a blanket.

“It’s not that cold,” Dave responds, looking over the crowd after I report seeing four people in the audience with stocking caps.

Today was a day of free and not-so-free things. A trip to the local thrift store yielded two free books, a stop by a friend’s house brought excellent company and home-done freeze-dried bananas and apples, and the concert in the park was free. But the second-hand washer and dryer unit to be dropped off bright and early tomorrow morning – although not as spendy as it could have been – resulted in a chunk of change spent.

The “Hog Wild” event is happening in Ocean Shores and is clogging the roads, restaurants, and beaches with cars, motorcycles, and RVs. I doubt we’ll go; we’ve been before. The highlight was a stunt group with vintage bikes that did handstands while filling the air with their choking exhaust. 

Funny, I pulled up the local community Facebook page. A resident is echoing my sentiment: “PSA: If you don’t like crowds, lots of traffic, noisy motorcycles, not being seated in a timely matter, pedestrians walking in front of you without looking, cars parked every which way on the beach, it might be a good weekend to stay home.” 

I am an off-season type of girl. 

During summers, when other students in college packed themselves home, I stayed—or when attending National Parks, I like to go in the winter. And especially here at our cabin: give me a rainy winter day and a stroll through a town filled with ghosts, and my cold, rock-like heart warms significantly. 

The Sandlot’s on, and I’m going to tune in now that the popcorn is ready. I hope you have a great start to the weekend. 

Love, Jaclynn

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