My Granny use to say that St Simons Island was a "dripping place." It dripped with spanish moss, humidity, and the old spirituals sung by the Gullah women on wash day. I think Granny was right. Sometimes I think my blood, my very soul, is mingled in the sand and the plough mud of the island and her marshes. I find myself called back there time and time again, since I was a child. Its been difficult, sometimes heartbreaking to see how the island has changed, from the sleepy mysterious place it was for me as a child, to the development of residential communities and vacation condos for tourism today. Here are some pictures of our trip there a few weeks ago.
Sunset on East Beach