With Spanish moss, resurrection ferns, fiddler crabs, clapper rail calls, a magical melting of creative types and miles of marsh.
I pack my gear in a dry bag, slather on some sunscreen, drag my kayak down the dock, climb in and see what's happening.
We have an odd community of transplants, many who should have stayed where they were. But amid the cacophony of posers are those who actually came here - or stayed here - for here, not for what was in the brochure. While we have more than our fair share of shallow, me-too types, we also have more than a few folks who think, who feel, who reach beyond the obvious. The more we can find, get to know and collaborate with each other, the better we - and our community - will be.


