up at 7 , walked the BEAU, fed him and planned a drive to a seashore state park. Never made it , got stuck in Port Royal and Beaufort , two small towns sunk deep in the marshes of the low country. Shore front mansions have 300 feet long walking docks to get to the water at low tide, high tide hides the oyster beds and grasses. Mud fields and oysters stuck to branches show their face when the tide dips down . I found a nice nature trail in Port Royal with a stern warning : look out for Gators ….Cause “A FED GATOR IS A DEAD GATOR” ??? Im sure I have my love for nature from my mama, she still swoons when she sees a bird, any bird, so this post again has a few birds in it, just for her. 
on to Beaufort, pretty little town just north of Savannah and 60 miles south of Charleston. Hugged left right front and back by tidal waters , streets lined by oak and Spanish moss , stately houses guard the shorelines , rocking chairs sit still on the wrapped around porches. You can hear the ice cubes making sound in pitchers of ready to go ice tea with green mint leaves. Ladies in long white frilly dresses take a seat and rock the chairs, dapper dressed gentlemen wipe their brows with a folded hankie. ah, imagination what a great thing. The porches were bare , residents hiding from the heat checking on the portly tourist with the camera from behind their frilly curtains. shu shu, go away leave us in peace. We’re ghosts of a era long gone.
Check them out, the ghosts, they are there behind the windows or in the trees , maybe sniffing the oleander or another barely legal weed. hmmmmm. The mystical south.
Oculus Drift 