I flew to the tropics when the ground was frozen and the schedule wasn’t. If there was poetry to be found in winter, my ankle wasn’t finding it, healing from a fracture last fall. Colour me snow happy when I can ski and skate. I’m not one of those who 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.
Turns out I needed only a new palette and a punch, straw being 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 unoriginal fashion.
Rainforest showers were brief, tropical backdrop resplendent.
A minute later, we were back with kids and memories.
There’s been jaunts 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 just 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, 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 on earth do 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 the 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.
