:: We spent a few days on the Outer Banks, a place I spent many weeks every year when I was growing up. The place has changed immensely. I tried, with these photos, to find something of the place of my childhood.
If you follow me on Instagram, then you’ll have seen a few of these photographs already. But most of these are making their debut on this photo-post.
Above, the first photo—that is childhood joy. Childhood joy never changes.
The colors of the natural creatures are as vibrant as the artificial colors—here, my blue sneakers meet a blue crab.
The lowlands of North Carolina have magnificent trees, including live oaks. These trees are young and small, as far as live oaks go (no five-centenarians here), but they are still amazing.
On our way to the island, we passed through a storm. We are still debating how many rainbows there were in the sky at one time.
The water was as still as I’d ever seen it. Flat as glass half of the time.
The golf courses alarmed me. The rambling undergrowth encroaching on the golf courses was magical in its persistence.
The Outer Banks, in the end, are wild. They will always be wild, if they continue to exist past the seemingly inevitable sea-level rise. The wildness, if you can still find it, is spectacular.
