Marshes of Glynn
Overlooking one portion of the marshes of Glynn - woodpecker heaven is steps away. Anna-O and Momma-O. This is the year of the bandanna.
When we first started doing these reunions we had no A/C in the car for the 5-hour drive from Atlanta or the 12-hour drive from Philly to St. Simons Island.
There was an almost indescribable change in emotion when you reached a magical demarcation line nearing the Marshes of Glynn – the smell of the verdant marsh was overwhelming. The aroma melted cares away. You knew you had reached vacation heaven.
Later, when we could afford A/C cars (when everyone could afford A/C), we would shut off the A/C and open the windows miles before reaching the bridge to St. Simons just so we could experience the euphoria of the first whiff of the marsh aroma. (Kids coined the phrase SDV for the phenomenon of folks tooling through life in “Sensory Deprivation Vehicles” like big Caddies with the windows up.
Glooms of the live-oaks, beautiful-braided and woven
With intricate shades of the vines that myriad-cloven
° Clamber the forks of the multiform boughs,--
° Emerald twilights,--
Virginal shy lights,
Wrought of the leaves to allure to the whisper of vows,
When lovers pace timidly down through the green colonnades
Of the dim sweet woods, of the dear dark woods,
° Of the heavenly woods and glades,
That run to the radiant marginal sand-beach within
°The wide sea-marshes of Glynn;--