Was home from Argentina only two nights, and on Saturday, August 11, the Brittons – kids and granddaughters – flew to Charleston, South Carolina, for the now traditional week on Kiawah Island. One of Robin’s friends since grade school, Courtney, came along, too. We rented the same house as 2017, which was splendid in many ways, not least a swimming pool. The routine for six days was identical. I rose early, pedaled 20 miles or so across the verdant island, then breakfast, reading, trip to the bigger pool or the beach, lunch, nap, more relaxing, dinner, long sleeps. Vegetable-like, but even for an active fellow like me it was fun. We did manage to drive into Charleston Thursday afternoon for an amble on King Street, then dinner on Queen Street. We dropped Robin, Jack, Dylan, and Carson at Charleston airport early Saturday morning, drove across the big Ravenel Bridge into Mount Pleasant, then back across for brunch at Hominy Grill, a Lowcountry fave (sadly, no longer open for dinner, as we discovered two days earlier), and another hour of motoring around Charleston. It’s one of America’s oldest and most interesting cities, thanks to nearly a century of civic commitment to historic preservation.
Some scenes from the island, family fun, and Charleston:
At Charleston airport, there’s a memorial to the 2015 terrorist attack on the Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal church, and before I flying home I paused there for daily prayers and contemplation. The memorial has photos of the victims, stained glass, and paintings to honor and remember; this one was especially beautiful: