![Hold Back the Dawn [DVD] Charles Boyer; Olivia de Havilland; Paulette Goddard](http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41AkExBJQsL._SL75_.jpg)
Beauty. And the beach.
Thursday, November 14, 2019 at 04:44PM 
On our way home from Chicago -- which takes two days because it works better that way -- we again broke our journey in Indianapolis.
Once there and settled in at our hotel, we returned to Crown Hill Cemetery.
I hope you're not bored or otherwise disconcerted by my cemetery pictures. If you are, there's always the click-out option. Lay-uhs!
The beauty
It's just that, when we'd visited Crown Hill the week before, there wasn't all that much time. Not near enough to soak in and photograph even a fraction of the beauty.
Plus which, unless I'm able to be on location when the sun comes up (not likely), I enjoy taking pictures in the late afternoon.
On this day, there was a dramatic sky. Adding interest was the fact that the cemetery lies beneath a busy flight path to and from Indianapolis International Airport.
When TG and I arrive at a cemetery, here's what we do: I get out with my camera on a wrist strap, my phone snugly nestled in my crossbody bag.
TG, who has first obtained a map from the cemetery office, goes on to cruise around while studying said map for interesting graves and other attractions.
I have to walk; I can hardly bear to ride in a cemetery on account of, every sixteen feet, I see something I need to take a picture of.
It's funny but, monuments and other cemetery-like things that are irresistible from the car, are sometimes not compelling to the same degree when one is on foot.
But I take pictures of them anyway. Shoot first, as it were, and ask questions later.
As I walked, there was no one above ground except me. It was quiet even for a place that is known for lack of ambient noise. It enhances an experience which is already inherently serene.
There was the usual contingent of angels on pedestals, gesturing with their glorious wings.
I happened across a gothic chapel with spectacular landscaping. At this point I was besieged by gnats -- as in, I was in danger of inhaling them -- so I had to keep walking.
The clouds began putting on a show.
There was a memorial ennobling war dead.
And yet more eloquent angels.
This monument to a departed child stopped me for several minutes and garnered shots from several angles.
No; I did not place the fake flowers in her arms.
Truth be known, I wanted to remove them as I found them garish. But I didn't touch.
It's difficult to think about the winter ahead, and the snow that will settle on her little face and arms.
Sweet home
Soon it was time to return to our hotel and a pleasant evening. The next morning, we started for home.
Earlier in the week, I'd photographed this monument which adorns the plot of a family named Sweet.
The bronze boy is holding an acorn in his hands.
On his shirt are carved the words Acorn Farm Camp.
A few minutes' research revealed that Herb and Dee Sweet founded Acorn Farms, which was the home of Acorn Farm Camp in Carmel, Indiana.
According to some sources, it was the first day camp in the United States.
I found this web site that gives a mini bio of the Sweets, in case you're interested.
May they rest in peace.
The beach
In due time TG and I reached our own home sweet home, a turn of events which never fails to delight us both.
But I didn't stay for long.
Dagny was out of school for two days at the end of the week. Teacher conferences.
TG's college roommate from all four years at The Citadel lives in the Low Country with his wife of forty-five years. They are our lifelong friends and they have a bolthole on Folly Beach.
The little house is rustic but completely comfortable, adorably decorated, and pristinely kept.
Our friends are gracious enough to let us use it from time to time.
There are always message boards on the doors, on which our hostess writes personal notes. The one on the door to the room she knew I'd use greeted me by name. It's special, the way she does that.
But this time, on the front door, she had chalked Welcome to the Beach DAGNY.
Our Dagny was so thrilled to be going to be beach. It was all she'd talked about for days. Audrey, Dagny, and I set out on Wednesday evening at about nine o'clock.
TG would follow us in a day or two, but for the present it was just us girls.
We made it to Charleston by ten thirty and stopped at Harris Teeter on the Folly Road for provisions.
Dagny couldn't believe it when she got out of the car and could smell the salt air and feel the sea breeze, but the beach itself was nowhere in evidence.
We reassured her that it was only minutes away. But first: food and supplies.
When we arrived at the beach house and had unloaded all of our stuff and were getting settled in, Dagny began to -- ahem -- act out. Or up. You decide.
She was tired, but that's no excuse. She wanted to GO TO THE BEACH.
Only, it was eleven o'clock at night and pitch dark and we adults were ready to go to bed.
Dag persisted. We called TG, which in our family is akin to summoning the cavalry. He asked Dagny what her problem was.
Papaw I want to go to the beeeaaach, she wailed.
But you're AT the beach, he pointed out, and told her she'd see it the next morning. When it was light.
How did this situation resolve? Well, I will tell you.
Audrey and I fired up our phone flashlights and walked with Dagny the fifty yards to the beach.
There was no one else out there and the waves where thundering and the tide was going out, and it was pretty neat.
We didn't stay long -- just long enough to appease the child, who, it turns out, had been right all along.
When you get to the beach, go down and see the beach, if you can. Even if you can't really see it.
The next morning, Dagny had to endure Audrey and me preparing for a day at the beach, which included sitting on the deck, enjoying attempting to enjoy our coffee.
My grandchildren all know that when they hang with Mamaw, first thing in the morning comes the coffee hour. But when they are anxious to do something or go somewhere, that hour seems like a week.
Normally they're patient; I'll give them that. But on this day, Dagny could not contain her need to GO TO THE BEACH.
So we grabbed our hats and beach totes and chairs and blankets and towels and snacks, and again traversed the fifty yards to the beach.
Within four minutes, Dagny had made a friend. The little girl was about a year younger than Dag, and named Evie.
Evie was spending several days at Folly Beach with her grandparents, who were most amiable and very kind to Dagny -- even relieved and glad that Evie had someone to play with.
The receding tide had formed a sand bar, and that, on the side nearest us as we approached, had resulted in a huge shallow pool.
The girls played and splashed and built things in and around that pool until the tide came up and disappeared that long, shallow pool. The weather being summer-hot, the water in the pool was the temperature of a bath.
Eventually we went back up to the house and I can't remember what we did for dinner, but later we came back and let Dagny play at the edge of the surf.
She was entranced by the waves and could hardly get enough of it.
The next day, Dagny again teamed up with Evie for sand-and-water based activities. In the afternoon, I rented a golf cart and we cruised around the island.
A stop at Bert's Market -- open 24 hours a day, 365 days a year (we may doze but we never close) -- yielded a sandwich for Audrey and a hotdog and small icy Coke in a bottle for Dagny.
At Bert's there's a distinctly bohemian vibe. I liked it because why not? It's the beach. Salt life.
They offer free coffee so I got some of that and it was good.
The island isn't large and pretty soon we'd seen most of it. Back down to the beach we went.
That evening, TG drove down to Folly and joined us. We sat on the deck for a long time after dark, snacking and listening to music and enjoying the lights in the trees.
The next day was Saturday. We'd be going home later in the afternoon, but there were still many hours to enjoy the beach.
Only -- did I mention it was Saturday? Yeah. Word of advice: Avoid Folly Beach on Saturdays in hot beachy weather.
There were easily ten times more people there that day, than had been there the previous two days.
I dislike crowds.
So TG and I left Audrey to watch over Dagny and Evie -- beach buddies for the third day in a row -- and cruised around in the golf cart some more.
Then we picked up the girls and went back to the popular Bert's -- again, crowded like you wouldn't believe, to a truly alarming degree -- for snacks.
TG bought me a small oval decal for my car: Pirates of the Carolinas.
The tide was low when we returned for a final time to the beach. One could walk out for what seemed like a mile and still be only waist deep in water.
The last time I was actually in the ocean had been forty and one-half years ago, in that exact spot.
(TG and I spent part of our honeymoon on Folly Beach, and stayed in that same beach house.)
We'd been frolicking in the ocean when a jellyfish wrapped around my legs and stung me. My gallant groom carried me out and sat me on the shore and went back in to swim.
I got a pretty bad sunburn that day. It was the last time i set foot in the ocean past my ankles, until I said to Audrey this past late September day: Let's go in.
She had never been in the ocean at all, past her own ankles. I grew up swimming in the ocean in southern Florida, but as we advanced into the waves -- which were strong -- it amazed me that I had spent hours in the surf as a small child.
And I was an excruciatingly scrawny child.
But I know that I did, and I marveled at that as the waves kept hitting us, threatening to knock us down.
Audrey and I turned back after we'd walked out far enough to say we'd been in the ocean.
Later in the day we faced the music: time to turn in the rented golf cart, pack up our stuff, stuff the cars with what we'd packed, and get on the road.
We stopped at McDonald's (Dagny's request) on the way, and ate supper.
I don't like the drive home but at least it was less than two hours.
Nothing really, when you think about it.
But what I really think about it is, I want to go back to the beach.
Ready when you are.
And that is all for now.
=0=0=0=
Happy Thursday
Reader Comments (8)
I always enjoy your cemetery photos. We don't have many angels in the ones around here, actually don't seem to have as many statues period. Plus - you just have a gift at getting those shots.
I love that you went to the beach house with Audrey and Dagny. Girl time is so fun. It's so cool that you can go back and revisit the site of your honeymoon.
Pirates of the Carolinas! It's just perfect!
@Mari ... Girl you are the angel in Michigan, hahaha. Thanks for always appreciating my taphophilia. Yes it was interesting to sit on that same beach forty years later and watch my youngest-but-one grandchild play there. Time stays; we go. xoxo
"Wanted: dead or alive" is what I thought reading this post. You went from quiet cemetery photos to lively beach photos in a flash! I do love walking in old cemeteries. This one looks pristinely kept. Dagny is definitely a beach gal - she looks so happy and satisfied in the photos. It was a plus that she found a playmate. I never go into the ocean anymore - just walk the beach. When I was a teen and young woman, I enjoyed swimming out beyond the breakers, but now I'm a little fearful of all that vastness and power.
@Barb ... I hear you. Evie's grandmother reminded me so much of you. I think you would have liked her. She and her husband are originally from Boston but now they live in Asheville, North Carolina. She was tall, lean, and very athletic -- I put her age at about seventy but from a distance she looked like a mere girl. She was great and we marveled at how quickly you can connect with someone over beloved children and the beauty of nature. The sea is indeed powerful and vast, and it scares me too. I'm quite proud of myself for having gone in up to my waist, hahaha xoxo
I love your cemetery pictures, the details on the Sweet statue is amazing.
Dagny looked like she had an amazing time at the beach, everyone needs a little beach therapy.
@Jane ... thank you and yes, beach therapy is often way overdue! We forget the wonders that can be wrought on the psyche by a few days beside the ocean. xoxo
These are pretty memorials you found at the cemetery. When I was young I love to play on the beach and even in the water. But now, I avoid the sun.
@Nancy ... thanks for stopping by! I too avoid the sun. You should have seen what I was wearing on the beach! I have long-sleeved shirts that are UV protective in and of themselves. Under my shirt I wear 50 SPF. Over that I put a swim skirt. Then I put a scarf around my neck, and a huge sun hat with huge dark glasses, and I sit with a light cotton quilt over my legs. I get some looks but I don't care, hahahaha! I like to sit by the ocean. xoxo