Thick stands of sawgrass line the edge of Chocowinity Bay and forms islands that define the banks of Sidney Creek and Chocowinity Creek. In the early morning summer sun they shine like fields of gold but in winter, they become brittle as straw.
Fog transforms the ordinary into something extraordinary, something unexpected.
Sidney Creek lies only ¾ mile from my house on the shore of Chocowinity Bay, but the short paddle is a transition between worlds.
Distilling whiskey didn’t become moonshining until after the Civil War; then it became an overtly political act.
Getting in and out of the Oru required skills I hadn’t developed sailing boats across oceans.