A simple summer afternoon of surf, sand, and acai bowls.

I ask Winnie to please let me be the one to go to his room when he cries. This morning she pouted saying, “but he my Harry Boy.”

“I so excited ‘a go to the ocean.” Then, as if to clarify, “Harry’s ocean. Winnie’s ocean.”

Jumping fish, Live Oaks cloaked in Resurrection Ferns, and the storied Wesley House.

No easy task when it’s hot. Or when it’s strawberry.