Our Emerald Isle Vacation —June
2006

Our family plans a
beach vacation every summer, and this year was no exception. We searched the
Emerald Isle Realty website, found the perfect house for us, and then worked
out the kinks: when should we travel, should we take our bikes, could we take
our portable grill? We decided on activities suited to a wide range of
ages—eleven to forty-six. Everyone agreed that sitting on the beach, plugged
into our iPods, whiling away the day watching puffy cloud formations on the horizon
would take up a good portion of our time. But we also wanted to stay active. So
our first outing was kayaking in the sound.

We spent most of
the day paddling around small marshy landmasses observing the local bird life.
We spotted herons, varieties of ducks, and terns. We next headed toward an
island known for fossilized shark’s teeth. We stepped out onto the sandy beach
as crabs scuttled past our feet. 
Shells, burnt wood from campfires, and sea grass undulated below the
surf. Then, right at the edge of land and sea, buried halfway in the sand we
found them—perfect specimens of fossilized shark’s teeth. The searching proved
to be almost as engrossing as the call of the waves back at the beach.

After working up
an appetite my two sons, Peter and Palmer, insisted on seafood, which proved to
be another form of entertainment for the family. We took a short drive to
Captain Willis’ Seafood where we picked out soft shell crabs, shrimp, and
beautifully filleted coastal white fishes. (We went back three nights in a row
for the soft shell crab.) We grilled the crab wrapped in tin foil with a little
butter and lemon. The tender sweet crabmeat accompanied by North Carolina corn
on the cob, sweet onions, and yellow squash rivaled any meal at a five star
restaurant.

On those endless
summer days, spending the morning on the beach is a given. But we were glad for
a diversion and hopped on our bikes in the afternoon.  The paths are suited for long or short rides and we took a
rather long journey up Ocean Drive. We admired the beautifully decorated homes
with colorful windsocks and lively painted shutters. We watched as kites flew
high above the rooftops from somewhere along the beach.  We rode for almost an hour. My boys
were famished once again so we decided to stop at a little neighborhood diner
called Circle Pizza.  The burgers
were outstanding. They’re the old fashioned kind—cooked on a grill served with
fresh lettuce, tomato, and onions. 
The burger patty was just the right thickness. And with a milkshake I
felt like a kid again.

That night, we
dared to take the Beaufort haunted walking tour. Beaufort is a short drive from
Emerald Isle, and an enjoyable one at that. I love the way the wind has swept
all the trees to one side, making them look as if they are in a permanent
gale.  I love the little coves that
are lighted at night with homes nestled back among the groves of trees. What a
pleasure it must be to have a mysterious hiding place so close to the beach
where you can hear the sound of the waves, but still be hidden from a
passerby’s view. Now the Beaufort tour is billed for its ghostliness, but it is
also informative. Beaufort boasts the historical home of Blackbeard and the
spine tingling Beaufort cemetery. The stories of ships, storms, and pirate life
take on new meaning in the moonlight.

On top of
kayaking, bicycling, and taking the ghost tour we spent our week on Emerald
Isle sitting in the sun, playing in the surf, and just being together as a
family.  During the evenings we
took long walks. Sometimes we would fly our octopus kite. We watched
vacationers light fireworks and lit a few of our own.  This was our traditional family vacation. But, it wasn’t
until our last night that this trip turned out to be the best ever.

We had decided on
dinner out at the Riverside Restaurant in Swansboro. At the restaurant we each
ordered a satisfying seafood dish, and afterwards we decided to take a walk. We
drove down to the water’s edge, found parking, and got out to stroll.  Swansboro’s historic homes and quaint
little shops drew us down tree-lined paths. Magnificent oaks with outstretched
arms grace the area.  We wandered
around and found an old cemetery with graves dating back to the 1700s. The
cemetery sits on a little knoll overlooking tiny clapboard houses. 

When the breeze
rustles through these ancient trees and the sky begins to darken it seems
possible for magic to happen. And we found magic. We walked down a quiet little
street heading back to our car, talking about nothing in particular, when we
spied little furry bodies darting back and forth.  “Oh no,” said my husband. 

“Kittens,” the
rest of us cried.  Peter, Palmer,
and I walked swiftly but quietly onward. Each of us tried coaxing the cute
little guys out of a bush they had hidden in.  

We petted the Mom
cat. She was very sweet. All the while my husband insisted that we had three
cats at home and certainly didn’t need another. Peter my oldest son lay on his
back under the bush and tried to fish out one of the kittens. 

A little old lady
came out onto her porch.  She asked
if we wanted all the cats. My husband’s eyes rolled back in his head and he
said, “No, no, no.”

“Well, maybe we
could take one,” I suggested.

He gave me that
look; the one that says, “I’m serious! No means No!”

 I explained to Peter that Dad really
didn’t want a kitten.

Palmer knelt next
to his big brother and they both tried to entice the kittens out of their
haven.  “Come on, Dad,”  they complained.  “You never want a kitten and this one
would be for you. For Father’s Day.”

My husband began
to say, “I don’t need. . . .”  But
it was too late.

Peter jumped up.
“Got em.”  He held the cutest
little gray cat.  The kitten
squeaked for his mom.  The Mom came
over to investigate and sensed we would not hurt her baby.  The sweet little old lady asked, “Would
you like a can of food with your kitten?” 

“Sure,” I
answered. We wouldn’t really be able to stop for cat food. Now we had the
kitten and a can of food. My husband frowned.

On the way back to
the beach house we tried to think of names. My husband finally chimed in,
trying to pick the perfect name for this little dark gray, green eyed kitten.
He suggested several names, but none sounded quite right. Then he said, “Blue,
How about Blue?”

Perfect. Blue
water, blue sky, Blue cat. This unexpected addition to our traditional family
vacation was like icing on a cake, a maraschino cherry in a crisp, bubbling
cold coke, or whipped cream floating on top of steaming hot chocolate. This was
the crowning moment for the perfect Emerald Isle vacation—the next day we
brought home a little Blue magic.