Friday morning, the hurricane-formerly-known-as-Earl had wimped its way out of North Carolina — without leaving us so much as a drop of rain or a gust of wind. But at least the surf was up at the end of the island and I got to watch a little wave action.
[Double click on any of the pictures to see them in all their full-screen glory!]
Saturday was the local farmers’ market and art fair, held every Saturday morning during the summer around Carolina Beach Lake, which is supposedly the closest fresh-water lake to salt-water in the world. How close? Damn close: cross the street, walk through a parking lot and you’re in the ocean. In years we’ve had ‘real’ hurricanes, you can get to the ocean from the lake via kayak; they’re pretty much the same body of water.
I came home with a bunch of vegetables and some neat shell/bead/dragonfly earrings. And, obviously, lots of pictures.
We are graced with GREAT local musicians and we got to hear lots of them this week-end at my favorite venue: the local Tiki Bar — plunked on an old pier jutting out over the ocean. Here is Root Soul Project performing Saturday night.
Yes, that is the ocean in the background. I’ve watched the moon rise over the ocean (not this week-end, of course) while listening to great music (with a hint of surf in the downbeat) and drinking a good NC craft beer. Really, what could be better? Heard three good groups and did LOTS of unabashed people watching Friday, Saturday, and Sunday evenings. Too loud to eavesdrop, unfortunately.
Finally, here’s the Boardwalk and our own Carny Town. This is the second summer we’ve had a summer-long carnival along the Boardwalk. The carnival has had its friends, its foes, and it has revived the local Redneck Riviera title just a bit, for both better and worse.
I haven’t been to many carnivals since my son finished middle school, so I’m not that into the latest rides — most of them don’t seem to have changed all that much since the Olden Days when I actually went on all of them. But this floating bubble thing — this was new to me.
It was new to our carnival, too. Earlier in the summer this little spit of real estate held the bungee jump. But a carny worker was reportedly inappropriately groping young females as he was ‘helping’ them into their bungee harnesses — though I’m not sure what constitutes appropriate groping. So he and the bungee jump were run out of town and in came the bubble. (Did I mention that some folks were not too excited about having a summer-long carnival in their back yard?)
This bubble thing creeped me out, though the little kids bouncing and rolling around looked like they were having a blast. You get pushed into this giant flat beach ball and then they inflate it — and zip you up so you’re waterproof/airproof and roll you into a big pool of water. It’s almost impossible to stand up and you bump and bounce around until, I guess, you pass out from lack of oxygen or the bubble guy decides it’s someone else’s turn. Couldn’t help it; I kept hearing Paul Simon singing in my brain.
One final, sweet note to the Island tour: just-made tiramisu gelato. Mmmm, good!
And that is the way we — at least one little sliver of us — looked to a distant constellation this Labor Day week-end.
How about you?