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It’s an overcast day here on the Space Coast where a brisk breeze is blustering out of the north in advance of a “cold” front edging its way into Central Florida. Perfect for a walk on the beach, where there’s peace and an incoming tide.
Heading south toward the Cocoa Beach Pier I spot a venue of vultures up ahead, busily pecking at a large mound on the sand. Black and big, they’re obviously having at whatever it is lying lifeless on the beach.
As I approach I see what’s laid out for them — a sea turtle, long since departed to wherever it is that these lumbering giants return.
It’s a feast for the old buzzards. Sensing my approach, they reluctantly back away from their Thanksgiving delicacy, impatiently waiting for me to pass before resuming their sumptuous supper.
Ear buds piping in some smooth jazz, I walk on and observe a palace for kings, or at least for sand crabs. Some little boy and maybe his Dad have put a lot of planning and effort into this kingdom, replete with seaweed flags and seashell architectural details. I hope they snapped a pic of it for posterity. This is one for a child’s scrapbook of memories, don’t you think?
A marvelous thing happened that I wasn’t able to capture with my camera — the unmistakably sweet fragrance of orange blossoms. It’s this time of year when they bloom, sending their lovely orangey sweetness into the air, a perfume wafting on the wind all the way from across the Indian River. Mixed with the scent of the sea, I believe this is what heaven must smell like… orange blossoms and ocean mist.
Yes…. heaven.
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Andrea,
One of the many things that I enjoy about my subscription to The Radio Patriot is the variety.
Although you are a brilliant analyst and a skillful presenter, whether in writing or by voice, your “slice of life” columns are just as valuable as your political insights.
One of my best friends in the Air Force grew up in Cocoa Beach. I knew that you were in the Space Coast area, but did not know that you were right there.
Growing up in south Texas, we had an orange tree in our back yard. So, I know the smell that you described. While roaming the Texas Hill Country (doing land navigation for a military competition), it was the smell of sagebrush — go into your spice cabinet for a whif, and imagine that filling an entire valley on a gentle breeze. Many years later, while living in an Italian neighborhood in Upstate New York, it was the smell of grapevines on an autumn evening.
I almost felt as if I were walking the beach with you.
Thanks!
Thank you for your kind comments, Tom.
Regarding the sagebrush… when I was on tour with the Tea Party Express, we stopped alongside the road in the Arizona desert, and I stepped out of the bus. Hitting me like a blast was the crisp clean scent of sage. It was so remarkable I wanted to gather up bunches of it and bring it aboard!
Nature provides. We are indeed fortunate for our olfactory sense!!!
I miss the beach. My in-laws had owned a beachhouse on what is now KSC. It WAS directly across from Pad 41. I miss those days of living there and driving to work at Pads 16, 20 and later at 34 and 37. It was so nice to come home at 3:30pm everyday and get in my shorts, walk the beach, fish and just enjoy the ocean smells.
They govt paid them $15,000 for the house/property, bull-dozed down, nada left, just memories,and sometimes bitter as to why NASA had to buy all that land.
I think the only house they left standing was the one subsequently used as the astronauts’ beach house, where they would sometimes meet, and other times have their families over to barbeque, swim, etc before leaving on a mission (and prior to pre-flight quarantine). I have a friend whose family owned many acres of citrus groves that were purchased by the federal gov’t. They worked the groves for years afterwards under a lease agreement.
In one sense, NASA’s “occupation” guaranteed that beach would remain pristine for all these years. And of course, the National Seashore to its north continues that protection to this day. Playalinda, anyone?