I've been in Florida for almost a month working on two floors. It has
been one hitch after another and although the accommodations and food
have been out of this world I'm ready to go home. I haven't had too
many days off. I've tried to spend the few that I have had at the
beach. Seems like every time I go a storm follows me. This last time I
said to hell with it, put a couple of ziplocks in my pocket, and
hopped on a bike. Sure enough as soon as I got to the public access
The sky went from overcast to downright ominous. I walked for a mile
or two down the beach and turned around when I started to think my
luck might run out. I like to cut it close like that I suppose. I saw
a couple manatees off the beach on the way back that I'd missed the
first time. Found a few mermaids' purses. Had a nice time.
Anyway, when I got most of the way back to the beach access I could see a person coming toward me. I prepared for the awkward exchange that usually occurs when the surf is rolling and I can't hear anything that is being said. As the distance closed between us I could hear singing. I couldn't make anything out, but it was beautiful. As this person drew nearer I could tell that it was a young lady about my age wearing a tank top and bikini bottoms, still singing. I could see her eyes from five or six paces and their color was brilliant. She never stopped singing. She walked right by me, looked me in the eyes, and never stopped singing. I walked on. After strolling a little ways down the beach I finally got my wits about me and remembered the camera in my hand. I'm not much of a portraitist but with the light and the subject I couldn't have gone wrong.
The rain was coming. A lot of it. Fast. And she just kept on heading down the beach toward the storm. I stood there and watched the lightning, listened to the thunder, and watched parts of the horizon completely disappear behind the curtain. First the condos went. Then the dunes. And she just kept walking. Then she too disappeared and I ran for the life of my camera. I tossed my valuables into the big Ziploc and peddled like hell for the beach house.
My youth and poor judgement nearly got the better of me, which hardly ever happens if you can believe it. I resisted.
"So make your siren's call
and sing all you want
I will not hear what you have to say"
-The Cave, Mumford and sons