It's too darn hot to get out much around here this time of year but the other day we had a small break from the 90's so off we went. You've seen this view many times but something new showed up recently...
We got a little sign that tells all about the origins of the Bay. My family has been coming here for generations to vacation. We would make that long drive many times each summer. Now I live here. Even after 30 years it seems surreal. I still remember the tingle of excitement I would get as a kid when our car would come to the spot on the road where you can first see the water. I live a block away from that spot now and I still get tingles from that view.
It's stinky and dirty now and I would never swim in it anymore but I still love it. There are so many good memories of aunts and uncles and cousins all long gone riding the little waves on inner tubes and cheap dime store rafts. Food has never tasted as good as it did on a blanket on the sand. It was always fried chicken and mom's famous potato salad. She would make it the night before and that's how we knew we were going to the beach.
This is actually not the beach of my childhood. We didn't have a fancy boardwalk lined with rows and rows of spectacular blooms.
I wish I could show you all of the amazing things they plant here every spring. It's like walking through a flower show. Every bed has something different to look at.
These pots amaze me. There are so many of them and each one is prettier than the next. The Mister has been hemming and hawing about moving away and I get it....the house and yard are too much for us old folks but every time I think about leaving this place I'm sad.
Everywhere I look there is a memory I don't want to leave behind. That's my mom in a wash bucket on the lawn of a beach house my grandparents owned here. That's me at two different ages in the water. A beach baby I'm not but I sure like to look at the water from the shore.
And....here's our version of a chip wagon. I read the article Valerie posted yesterday because I love a good bag of french fries. Not being a meat eater it's usually the only thing on the menu I do eat anywhere we go so I am a bit of a connoisseur. This little wagon started out by just selling french fries on the street across from the boardwalk and as you can see has branched out over the years with funnel cakes and snow cones. He does a good business when he is open which is rarely anymore. I took this yesterday at lunchtime on a hot summer day with a beach full of folks. Go figure.
BUT I can tell you as someone who has eaten french fries from here to Mexico and from here to Quebec City, no one and I mean NO ONE has better fries than Thrasher's on the boardwalk in Ocean City, Maryland. NO ONE. Son sent me this photo from that holy spot where he vacationed with the Grands last month. He knows a good fry and now he's passing on the knowledge of that crispy, golden goodness to the next generation. I taught him well.