When the ground was frozen, and the schedule was not, I flew to the tropics. Many find poetry in winter. My ankle wasn’t seeing it, healing from a fracture last fall. Colour me snow-happy when I can ski and skate. I do not glom on to the winter hysteria either.

It’s CANADA. We’re supposed to be cold!

Yet, stuck inside to stare out at a relentless white, the mood withers. Snow isn’t the only thing that drifts.

I only needed a new palette and a punch; straw is optional.

Bring along my favourite crew and…

She’s back!

Travel the world and still find spots stained forever in your heart. We tumbled onto St. Lucia as newlyweds and behaved in an unoriginal fashion.

Rainforest showers were brief, tropical backdrop resplendent.

A minute later, we were back with kids and memories.

There have been tours since, here and there, north and south, east and west-the world’s wonders are endless-but we knew we’d be back. You can’t say goodbye to old friends. You plan for the next time.

St. Lucia is best seen from the water, where the stunning coastline stretches for miles.

Or venture into the rainforest to spot native fruit trees of mango, banana, papaya, coconut, avocado, starfruit, soursop and hog plum. Flowering shrubs of hibiscus, bougainvillea, and oleander that I long to grow inside back home, but houseplants are for attentive lovers. I’ve only got eyes for the outdoors, and my houseplants know it and behave accordingly with a big middle finger.

Friends who ski on their school breaks wonder what you do all day. I will concede there’s glory in family ski holidays, too—my knees still remember—but sunshine restores my merry tribe to their best selves.

Or maybe it’s just as simple as a passionfruit mojito.

We need to quench ourselves in colour and wobble up and down in the warmth of the sea. A breeze floats by, and with it, winter, wrinkles and worries.

I hoard moments in my beach bag, guarding time with these young adults that still like beads in their hair.

Can we read in bed with you? Will you come swimming with me?  

Just ordinary miracles, ordinary miracles
But all the same, they’re miracles to me
The days that I’ll remember well
Have a simple kind of wonderful of ordinary miracles

Amy Sky

 

Tomorrow: a tropical dessert for those who can’t fly south but need to feel as if they did.