#2,737 Rainy Wakulla.

It rained and it rained and it rained while a tropical storm system pushed across Florida, and it did not stop us from having a perfect day. 

I like being here knowing this was my grandmother and her sisters’ summer place too. I’m trying to write the fireplace and Ivory soap smell of the halls on my memory, the crisp edge of the griddle cakes, the whippoorwills creaking at the edge of the springs, the cold muck of river sand and silt between my toes, to last me until next year.