We peddle down shady streets. Spanish moss and veteran oaks line the street. The ocean runs parallel just out of sight. We wind past yards planted with ferns and hibiscus. It is not deeply hot yet. Warm but not sticky. Every few minutes we pass a small wooden sigh marking a path to the beach. Later we will head to the sand, or not. "No Tasking" my husband's shirt says. Amen.
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