The Gypsy life begins with a wedding

Posted on May 29, 2017 by Donna Coulson

So far, our new gypsy existence has proven to be fun and relaxing – mostly.  There were the harrowing moments of getting the trailer pulled out of its winter spot among the trees.  The night before we left we had a downpour.  A truly drenching deluge that soaked the ground.  Pulling the trailer out meant putting the truck into four-wheel drive, and with a prayer and a clenched jaw Karl dragged it out of sinking mud, leaving behind some deep ruts at the side of our son’s beautiful driveway.

After that, it’s been pretty smooth sailing.  We arrived easily at the bed and breakfast/wedding reception venue, and what kindness we have encountered.  The owners of this beautiful place at the foot of the Shenandoah Mountains welcomed us and our trailer, tucking us into a spot in the trees and allowing us to stay for a few days after the wedding so we can be tourists.  (I’ll add a pitch here for the Rosebrook Inn in Stanardsville, Virginia – they rock!)

It’s funny and wonderful how people come into our lives.  Amanda, the bride at this wedding, was a quiet, serious student who sat towards the front right side of my ninth grade English classroom.  Within a few weeks of school’s start, I figured out she was Christian – her witness was (and is) calm and assured.  She shines with Christ’s touch and exudes His love.  Quietly, because as a public school teacher I had to be careful about sharing my faith, I started a conversation with this young one to let her know that I shared her love of the Lord.  We became friends.

Through her high school years she’d ask me to edit papers for her once in a while.  We’d meet sometimes for a chat. She left for college in Oklahoma full of excitement and fears, and we began emailing. She’d come home on breaks and we’d catch up.  She graduated from there and went to Yale Divinity School.  I no longer could edit papers for her, (I didn’t understand them!), but I was able to talk on the phone, email, listen, sometimes advise, but mostly pray with her and for her.  She gathered up her Master’s Degree from Yale and promptly moved to Emery in Georgia for a PH.D. program.   If I replay the eleven or twelve years I’ve known her, I can imagine it as a time-lapse movie of a daisy opening. Each petal unfurling to reveal more of this deep and beautiful person.  (watch this and you’ll see what I mean, but don’t forget to come back and read the rest!  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tgNp7Ya4WoY).

So, on Saturday I watched the precious woman who calls me her ‘bonus mom’ unfurl another petal in her life and become a wife.  I got to meet family and friends that she’s gathered along the way, and put names to faces, which was fun in its own rite.  It was a perfect day.

 

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Dreams – pirates and gypsies

Posted on May 22, 2017 by Donna Coulson

The first thing that Karl said to me this morning was that he was tired from driving all night.  He went on to explain that all night, as we slept, he drove a big rig semi-truck through the jungles of Venezuela hauling styrofoam plates and grain to a meat packing plant.  I never have such creative or random dreams. I’m glad he does, though, because he often starts my day with a smile and a shake of the head as he relates where the night took him.

Tomorrow, a different sort of dream is taking Karl and me both on an adventure.  Five years ago this summer we arrived for the first time on St.Croix. We fell in love with the place, and we fell in love with who we are while we are here.  As we walked through the next year of coming back again and finding and buying our house, a dream began taking shape.  In November, when we retired and came here, the first half of our long-term dream took place.  Living on St. Croix.  Now, tomorrow, the second half of the dream will begin.  We fly off from here tomorrow to go to Virginia.  There, tucked safely into the trees at our son’s house, waits our fifth-wheel camper trailer and our pick-up truck.  We are trading our pirate life for a gypsy life for the summer.

The plan is to spend the summer months doing a second thing that we love as much as being on island.  Travel, exploring, camping and four-wheeling.  Also in the mix is seeing all three of our children and their families, who have followed their own dreams far from where they were raised and far (in miles) from their siblings.  We have a map filled with places to visit and people to stop and see.  We have a few obligations already on the calendar – a much anticipated wedding this weekend, another wedding in August, rodeo tickets, a family meeting… but mostly, we are going to go on vacation from retirement with the intent to wander and explore and to meet nearly each day with no plan.

But, if I’m honest, I have to admit that the closer it gets to us leaving, the more nervous – maybe anxious is a more precise word – we both have become.  Several times this week, as we have been making plans for being gone for several months, I’ve thought maybe I didn’t want to go. Then, I realized that Karl is feeling the same way. This is a puzzle to me.  Karl and I’ve both talked a lot about why we feel hesitant to embark on this second half of our plan.  Maybe it is because we have struggled in the past six months to understand what retirement is and how to live here, and now that we are getting the hang of it we are leaving.  Maybe we just aren’t all the way finished nesting here. Maybe we are getting old and set in our ways (NO  NO  NEVER THAT I HOPE!). Maybe since we are both very much planners with an eye on the clock and the calendar and our checked off lists of things to do, we can’t exactly imagine a plan-less existence.  Maybe we are just nervous because we’ve never done this before. Most probably though, the hesitation comes from a small worry that since the first half of the plan has turned out so beautifully that maybe the second half will be a flop and failure.

One way or the other, we are off on a new adventure.  We’ll button up this house – the tortoise is already at the neighbor’s hanging out with another tortoise friend named Percy Shelly and my potted plants and orchids are sitting happily in another neighbor’s garden to be nurtured until we return. We will get on a flight tomorrow and on Wednesday morning, my birthday in fact, we will  unbutton our little gypsy wagon and get ready to hit the road.  A new adventure is beginning!  Despite the fears and hesitations, I can’t wait to see what we are going to discover!

Categories: Gypsy life, Living on St Croix | 8 Comments

Tatting

Posted on May 15, 2017 by Donna Coulson

Tatting is an old fashioned art form.  Kind of like crochet, only very different, tatting is a method of using thread or string to create lace and embellishments.  My grandmother knew how to tat, I have a doily she made.  My mother did not know how, though she is the one who taught me to crochet.  I learned how to tat, in its most rudimentary and crude iteration, when I lived in California.  It is something I’ve wanted to master.  But it is hard.  And frustrating.  When you make a mistake in crochet, you pull the string and out comes the problem, without muss or fuss.  When you make a mistake in tatting, sometimes you can  painstakingly take it out stitch by stitch or, more often, I have to throw the piece away. The good thing is I usually don’t get very far before I make a catastrophic mistake. While I have ‘played’ at tatting in the past, I always knew I had neither the time nor the patience to actually spend much time at it.  Now,  I do have that time, so my efforts and enthusiasm have been renewed. 

Yay! After lots of practice and a whole set of lessons on YouTube viewed, I made this little flower!  Doesn’t look like much and clearly I’m still not sure what to do with the ends when I finish, but it’s a start.  Buoyed and encouraged, I ordered myself some new thread and a couple more tatting shuttles, and I’m on my way.  Here’s a bit of something I finished last night:

Adding the beads was interesting, and I feel like I’ve really accomplished something here… I have a feeling that I won’t ever be absolutely terrific at this hobby,  but thanks to YouTube and Pinterest, I have an online support system that makes it possible for me to enjoy the struggle to learn how to tat.

So here’s the question. Am I using my time wisely?  Am I honoring God when I sit for an hour or so and try to tat?  Hmmm.  I find a lot of joy in creating these little string pretties. (And, okay, I growl a bit when I make a mistake!)  Could it be that since Adam was created in God’s image and I am a descendant of Adam, that a tiny bit of God’s creativity flows out of my hands when I actually get it right?  (And maybe I understand God’s desire for perfection in us as His children and frustration when we turnout lop-sided or twisted.)  I think so.  I love that I can be creative and work to make something beautiful.  I am thankful for that ability, and I hope that somehow His creativity and beauty are reflected in my efforts.  Now, if I can just figure out what a split ring is…. Sorry, gotta go. You Tube is calling.

Categories: Random thoughts on being me | 1 Comment

Lee Roddy – friend and encourager

Posted on May 8, 2017 by Donna Coulson

A while ago I blogged a series about women in my life who were mentors. At the time, I didn’t think about the men who have been influential in my life.  Maybe I should.  Maybe I will!  I saw on line this week that someone special to me passed away in February at the age of 93.  I think he knew he was important to me.  I hope so.

Lee Roddy was a famous writer.  You might, if you are old enough, remember the Grizzly Adams TV show.  That was Lee Roddy.  He wrote over 62 books – most of them for younger readers (5th to 8th grade). I met him in the mid-1990s when he came to my school as a guest speaker for a celebration of reading that we did every year.  My first impressions were that he was an elegant older gentlemen with a tiny touch of gruff.  He shared with the kids his love of reading and writing and gave them some encouragement and tips on becoming a writer.  I say he gave these to the kids, he was, after all hired for that purpose.  But, in reality it was me who was encouraged and given insight about writing.  You see, at that point in my life, with a job and husband, two teens at home and working sometimes two jobs to just get by, writing a novel was on my wish list but nothing more.  I had stories in my head and the desire to write, but not one word on paper.  Lee Roddy inspired me.  He made it sound do-able.  If not easy, he made me think maybe someday I could write.

That first visit to our school turned into a second visit to my classes a year later when I used one of his novels to teach the Civil War.  It was the first book in a series he called “The Between Two Flags” series.  While he was in my classroom, he told me that he was nearly done with the second book in the series, but that since he only had sons and grandsons, he was worried that his female lead character might not be ‘real’ enough. He asked if I might be willing to ‘edit’ it for him and give him my thoughts.  Oh man!  Since he wanted more than one point of view, the librarian at school, Kristin, read the manuscript when it came, and so did I. We also gave it to two of my eighth graders and ask for their input.  Then, we sent the manuscript back to Mr. Roddy with all our notes.  It was so fun to read it again a few months later, published and polished, and see if he’d taken our ideas to heart (he had). It was also amazing to read the dedication page, because he’d dedicated the book to Kristin and me .  Unbelievable!

I kept, distantly, in touch with Mr. Roddy over the years.  We’d exchange emails once in a while, nothing too close.  When I first finished Mountain Time and didn’t know how to proceed, I emailed him.  In my email, I admitted to him that at my age, I didn’t know if getting my novel out for others to read was a silly pipe dream.  His email was such a blessing to me, full of encouragement and hope.  I still have it on my bulletin board so I can read it any time I get discouraged or think I’m wasting my time as I write.  It was a gift of infinite value at a moment when I needed it most, and from someone who was gruff enough to be honest.

The first time I heard Lee Roddy speak, he said, “I write with the hope that heaven will be different because I wrote.”  The idea of that made such an impression of me.  For the rest of my teaching career I had a small sign on my desk saying the same thing only about teaching.  Now, as a writer and blogger, I feel the responsibility and the joy of that sentiment.  I don’t know whether Mr. Roddy is in heaven meeting people who are there because his words pointed them in that direction. I hope so.  But what I do know, is that my life has been influenced by him, and my life is different because Lee Roddy wrote.

Categories: Living on St Croix, Mountain Time, Random thoughts on being me | 3 Comments

This is the Day the Lord has Made

Posted on May 1, 2017 by Donna Coulson

When I was in high school, my mom wrote out a free verse poem for me on a piece of stationary.  I still have it, in her dear and beautiful script, framed on my desk so I can read it often.  When my children each grew up and got ready to leave home, I copied it for them, in my own handwriting, and framed it. I am guessing that Mom didn’t write this – it doesn’t sound like her voice, though it does sound like her thoughts.  If someone knows where the poem came from, I’d love to know, but even then I will always know that it came to me from my mom.  Here’s the poem:

Today is mine.

It is unique,

Nobody in the world has one exactly like it.

It holds the sum of all my past experiences, and all my future potential.

I can fill it with joyous moments or ruin it with fruitless worry.

If painful recollections of the past come into my mind, or frightening thoughts of the future,

I can put them away.

They cannot spoil today for me.

 

I think a lot about this sentiment. It’s funny how I’ve read this poem and absorbed it differently at various places and stages of my life.  In my younger days, I concentrated on the ‘I am unique’ part.  I was filled with my own special-ness, thankful that God put me here to share me with the world. (My own self esteem was not an issue at that stage of life, for sure!)  Then, as an adult and being my mother’s daughter, (my mom worried about everything), I needed a reminder on a daily basis to not fret.  Trust God was its message to me then. Now, with a comfortable but clear notion that my earthly days are numbered, I’m so thankful to be reminded that my life’s path and my attitude towards that path are a choice.  Each day is a gift. Whether I’m in the garden or at the computer, today is unique and I can’t in good conscience waste it.  If life gets hard and I become ill, or grief comes my way, or there are more aches and pains, or financial trouble, or whatever bads the world can throw out, I want to remember that today is unique and I can’t in good conscience waste it.  The lady who frequently sits behind us in church, when I ask her how she is, frequently leads her answer with “Thank God for Life!” Amen!

Categories: Living on St Croix, Random thoughts on being me | 3 Comments

Crucian Food

Posted on April 24, 2017 by Donna Coulson

It was an easy expectation while we were planning to come and getting settled here that since St. Croix is part of the US it was mostly the same as living on the mainland except more beautiful, more relaxed and in the warmth of perpetual summer.  Now that we’ve been here a while, we know that expectation was simply false. There is a winter here and we’ve actually felt chilly once or twice when the temps dipped to the low 70s.  Yes, we use the American dollar at the store, and there are many similarities to America here, but over all, life on this island is certainly not the “American” life we were used to.  We drive on the left side of the road – scary at first especially at intersections. People speak English here, but they also speak Crucian (which is the word meaning all things Saint Croix!). In addition to the musical, lilting and fluid accent people have here, their vocabulary and the way they put words together can also be very different from standard English. I say huh? quite often.

Food here is also different. A walk through the grocery store confirms this.  There are bins in the produce section of the grocery that have UEOs in them (Unidentified edible objects), the meat section is interesting because often the cuts of chicken and beef are different and there are parts that we’ve never seen in a store before (chicken feet, ox tails…). The beautiful thing is that nearly any person standing near me in the store when I discover something new is willing to name it for me and give me ideas about how it’s eaten. Food, then,  can present problems, not for me as much as for Karl, who is a somewhat picky eater who doesn’t eat fish or many fruits or vegetables and who doesn’t always have an adventurous culinary appetite. He is willing, though, to buy a UEO and then go home and Google recipes so that we can try it. In this manner we’ve eaten breadfruit, egg fruit, sugar apples, green papaya, and casava (which has cyanide in it and has to be cooked just right.  Yay, we didn’t die!)   We have tried a few things from local vendors such as conch salad, pates (meat filled pastries, yes!) and of course johnny cakes, Karl loves johnny cakes! More complicated Crucian dishes have gone untried for the most part, though.

Imagine how excited I was, then, when I attended a women’s retreat on Good Friday and realized that the lunch was a carry-in affair.  Bliss!  The retreat itself was wonderful and the speaker for both the morning and afternoon sessions had a lot to say that really challenged me, the worship music was terrific and the friendships I am making are precious. But the food!  The food was a delight because I had the opportunity to taste a wide range of Crucian food, and you can be sure that the ladies of my church put their best foot forward with what they brought.  I’ve now eaten:  chop-chop (ocra, spinach and other veggies chopped and cooked together), salt fish (dried salted fish, peppers, tomatoes all cooked together. Mostly served over rice), lentils (a side dish all to themselves.  I’ve only had them in other things before), provision (a dish of cooked breadfruit, plantains, potatoes, sweet potatoes, eddoes and dasheen (more of those UEOs in the store -they are roots),   ducana (sweet potatoes and coconut, cinnamon and nutmeg together in a sort of loaf. Sweet and yummy!).  Added to the fun of discovery was the fun the ladies had introducing me to the dishes and explaining what was in each one.  Every day I learn something or experience something new here on our island, and I thank God every day for His love of infinite variety!

Categories: Frederiksted Baptist Church, Living on St Croix | 4 Comments

Give us Barabbas

Posted on April 17, 2017 by Donna Coulson

Yesterday was Easter, and I’ve been thinking about Barabbas.  Barabbas isn’t very well known.   He’s mentioned in all four of the Gospels, but all we know about him is that he was in a Roman prison for murder and insurrection.  We don’t know if he was the leader of the uprising or if he actually did the killing.  It could be that he was a hardened criminal, committed to the destruction of Roman rule with a deep hatred for the establishment; a murderer with no feeling of remorse for the death he caused. Or. He could be a young man who got caught up in a street demonstration with a group of his friends, bored and out looking for something to do. When the rocks started flying and a Roman soldier was hit in the temple and killed, maybe he was horrified.  Maybe he was the geeky kid down the block who when along with the cool guys to a demonstration and didn’t run fast enough when things got out of hand. We just don’t know.  But what we do know is that the Jews in Jerusalem knew him. When Pilate met with Jesus, he went out to the crowd and told them he could find nothing serious enough against Jesus to justify all the fuss.  In fact, Pilate had heard of Jesus and and looked forward to meeting him.  He’d hoped he could see Jesus perform a miracle.

Everyone including Pilate was surprised then when the crowd began chanting for the release of Barabbas instead of Jesus.  Pilate tried to dissuade them, but in the end he did what the crowd asked.  He released Barabbas and sent Jesus to be executed.  Picture this. It’s Passover and the city is crowded. Emotions are high.  We don’t know how long Barabbas had been in prison, but even if it was a short time, it felt like a long time.  All of a sudden, the guards come for him and he may have been thinking, “Yup, this is it, I’m done for.” Instead, he is given his watch and the change from his pocket back, he’s given his street clothes and sneakers and he’s released.  His mom is there crying and laughing. So are his uncles and friends.  They all go back to to the house and have a late lunch, thankful for the surprising turn of events that freed him.

Now consider three days later.  Barabbas has been sleeping peacefully each night in his own bed. He’s rested and the bruises he got in prison are fading.  He starts this Monday morning thinking about all that’s happened to him and wondering where he goes from here.  Maybe he is planning on doing a little job hunting today.  Then the news starts circulating.  “Did you hear? That guy they executed in your place? That Jesus character?  His body is missing and they are saying he’s risen from the dead!”  As the weeks go by, Barabbas hears more stories.  He listens in the temple courtyard when Jesus’ apostles start explaining that Jesus has been resurrected and why.  He reads the account in the newspaper about His ascension.  He has friends that were there when Peter spoke to the crowd and the Holy Spirit descended and he realizes that Jesus died in his place and rose for him.  Literally. Jesus occupied the cross that was intended for Barabbas and died there even while Barabbas and his family were celebrating. Can you imagine how that felt? Can you imagine how humbled and thankful and awed Barabbas felt at this miraculous turn of events?

I hope you can.  I hope I can.  My name isn’t Barabbas, but it could and should be.  Jesus died on MY CROSS. Jesus died and I go out to lunch and because of His sacrifice have nothing to fear in the future.  Jesus died for me and for you.  Wow.  Happy Easter Monday!

Categories: Random thoughts on being me | 2 Comments

Green Pastures

Posted on April 10, 2017 by Donna Coulson

The 23rd Psalm is familiar and comfortable.  It is comforting.  Jesus is our shepherd. (Okay, this part makes me a little uncomfortable because what I know about sheep is limited, but mostly I know that they are dumb.  I like that Jesus is the shepherd, but why do I have to be the sheep?)  Anyway.  It is comfortable because the chapter tells me that Jesus is actively caring for me.  He’s restoring me, leading me, guiding me, with me, preparing for me, anointing me. Wow. That’s a pretty amazing list.

When I think about or hear verse two, normally I think of a scene etched in my head.  Probably ten years ago, Karl and I were riding our four-wheelers up in the Sierra Madre Mountains above Encampment, Wyoming, my favorite place in the world. We were just above the Rudefeha Mine site.  It was August.  The days were warm, the high, alpine wildflowers were blooming, there were wild raspberries and strawberries to be found when you were lucky and looking carefully.  The sky was blue with puffy clouds floating above.  As we came to a small curve and then a shallow crossing where the Haggarty Creek runs over the road, a sheep herder was grazing his flock. For the most part, the group was bedded down in the shade for an afternoon nap. They were, in fact, not in want. They’d been led beside still-(ish) waters, and were lying in green pastures. Even the big scary Great Pyrenees sheep dogs were lying happily in the shade resting. They were being restored. The contentment was palpable.

We crossed the creek and left them behind, but the scene and the indelible definition of Psalms 23 remained and still remains with me.

Fast forward to yesterday.  First off, we awoke yesterday morning and were greeted by a deer lying peacefully, relaxed and completely happy in our back yard. Now, please understand that we’ve just sort of begun working on that backyard, and for the most part it is a flat section behind the house full of weeds that we mow in order to keep them in check and surrounded by scrubby/ weedy and overgrown trees.  It’s actually pretty ugly and it stresses me out as a result. Yesterday morning, it contained three ladders that Karl is using while he puts a roof on the shipping container that he’s turning into a shop and there were several pieces of plywood, an extension cord, and a swimsuit from Saturday drying on the clothesline.  Definitely ugly.  Not, in fact, even close to a green pasture.  I took pictures of the deer, though, and I cropped out the piece of plywood he was sitting beside, and we were thankful for the gift of seeing it.

Then we went to church.  Pastor John’s opening prayer included these words: “Bring us, Father God, into the pasture of Your Word so that we can know you deeper.”  Huh? I’ve thought about that prayer. So let me get this straight, God… I can be in Your green pastures even if I’m sitting on a rough and weedy, ugly place? Or I can be in Your green pasture sitting in church trying to understand how to transcend being a clay vessel and become a vessel of power for you?  Hmmm.  News to me.  I want it picturesque.  I want the wild raspberries and calmly bleating lambs.  I want You, my Shepherd, to provide perfect and beautiful for me so that I can be restored.  Oh, okay.  I see.  I really am very much a sheep.

Categories: Living on St Croix | 3 Comments

It’s all in How you View it…

Posted on April 3, 2017 by Donna Coulson

Note: when I first published this on Monday (yesterday), I had a mistake thanks to ‘research ‘ I did on Wikipedia.  (Thanks, Dave!) So this is the new and corrected version!

 

I’ve talked about this before, but we named our house here on St. Croix ‘Pirate’s Perch’ because the house is built on a carved-out flat spot in the middle of a hill.  We are about a mile inland and GPS says we are 214 feet above the sea.  We have a terrific view of  a pretty big chunk of the western coast of the island.  The view is what attracted us to the house initially and it remains probably our favorite part of it.

I look outside dozens of times every day.  The scene is always changing.  Sometimes, the sea is so calm I can see where the channels and currents are running.  Sometimes the water is grey and wrinkly or covered in white caps.  On rainy mornings,  because the sun is rising above the hill behind us, we get lots of rainbows. On clear days we can see Puerto Rico’s mountains 93 miles away.  We watch hawks wheeling over the valley below and listen to their haunting cries echo across the valley. (It isn’t all bucolic, though.  Dogs barking and roosters crowing at all times of the day and night can also echo across… not so pleasant after a while.)

Through a friend, I discovered a website that tells me the names and information about ships that I can see passing by. (www.marinetraffic.com- you can see ships throughout the whole world – it’s pretty cool!)   Maybe it takes me a long time to clean, or weed, or do laundry, or pretty much any job I have because, A. I look out at the sea dozens of times a day, remember? and B. when I see a ship, I then have to stop, open the website on my kindle and see what ship it is, then maybe do some google research about the ship and/or C. get out the spotting scope we got from Sam and Allison for Christmas and look at it close up.   We’ve seen tankers and cargo ships routinely, but we’ve also seen million-dollar ‘Super Yachts’ and  fine sail boats. I’m becoming familiar with ships that commonly ply these waters, including the cruise ships that dock at our pier two or three times a month.

Yesterday, we got a treat.  A Danish tall ship rounded the point and came into view about three o’clock. Sailing vessels are so regal and classy. This one is a three masted tall ship built in 1932 and among its many functions, during the Second World War, it stayed in US waters and was used to train US Coast Guard cadets.  Now it is a training ship for Danish (and three Brazilian) cadets.    It is here to help the Virgin Islands celebrate Transfer Day (one hundred years ago on March 31, the US bought the Virgin Islands from Denmark for $25 million in gold). Of course, I got out the scope and my Kindle, then, also of course, we jumped in the car and drove down to the pier to get a closer view.  Sadly, they had the pier closed off, so we couldn’t get really close, but according to the paper we can go tour the shop today or tomorrow!  Can’t wait.

P.S. It was definitely wortht the second trip down on Tuesday for a tour.  If you’d like to see what it looks like – finish reading my blog then follow this link to a video!  🙂  http://viconsortium.com/featured/watch-we-toured-the-tall-ship-danmark/

 

 

The tall ship Danmark arriving at Frederiksted, USVI

Getting ready to dock at the Pier.

 

This morning, the Danmark was joined at the pier by a cruise ship. Now, both of them sit side by side.  It’s fun to think of the old and the new. I’m sure there’s a lesson in that contrast somewhere, but for the time being, I’m satisfied just to take in the view and relish it.

The Danmark and The Jewel of the Seas docked together at Fredericksted Pier.

Categories: Living on St Croix | 2 Comments

Company

Posted on March 27, 2017 by Donna Coulson

One of the absolutely delightful things about living on a Virgin Island is that people want to come visit us.  I say this with total sincerity, we are thankful and excited that we’ve had lots of company since we’ve been here – and we hope and pray that it continues.  We’ve had our friend Michelle and her daughter Caedmon here with us since Wednesday.  They were here for just a few days two summers ago and loved it, so this time they’ve come back for a week and brought Michelle’s sister and family.  Delightful!  (Except that we got them all soundly sunburned on their first day here and everyone is still recovering!)

There are many things that are wonderful about having company, but one of them is that in showing off our tropical island, we make new discoveries ourselves.  For example, we were trying to find some iguanas to show the little ones (Nash is seven and Juniper will be four tomorrow!).  We were talking about that with my knowledgeable neighbor, who told us to seek iguanas in the morning in the tops of trees, where they will be sunbathing.  Who knew?  Yesterday morning, we had a field day spotting the prehistoric dragons hanging out in trees all around the house.  They’ve been there all along and I’ve never seen them.

The kids have had lots of fun catching lizards (we have a thriving population of anoles around and on the outside of our house).  But the very best discovery we’ve made this week, was made at the beach.  We were at Columbus’ Landing (historic! It’s the only place owned by the United States to be a documented site that Christopher Columbus came ashore). We were doing a little beach combing, and Michelle looked down, then bent down, and retrieved a tiny hermit crab. This little guy could stand in the middle of a dime and not touch any sides.  Soon, we’d found sanctuary for him in a Tupperware from the car. Now the hunt was on for a larger shell for him to be able to change into when he needed it. In that process we located a nook on the beach that was literally crawling with hermit crabs.  Teeny- tiny ones.  Ones in black and white geometrically patterned shells and ones in smooth pinkish shells – all very little but perfect in their miniature marvelousness.

So now, we have a ‘crabitat’ (not my word, it came from an internet site that is teaching us how to care for hermit crabs). Our crabitat is a plastic bin filled with sand, and it is the new and happy universe for seven happy crabs all named and cherished.  Hummm… a pod of crabs? Herd?  A murder of crabs? Flock, Team? A political party of crabs?  I’ll have to look that up.  Anyway.  They are fun and feisty, and if you think that it is only the two little kids who are enjoying them, think again!

Categories: Living on St Croix | 2 Comments