As we are camping during the summer off the Tangier Sound, dragonflies are in abundance. Flitting about amongst the tall grass nestled by the water’s edge as if they are searching for a valuable treasure in the whiffs of the salty air escorted in by the waves lapping at the shores. I breathe in slowly and imagine that I am with my father in chest-deep water in the Isle of Wight Bay feeling around the bottom of the mucky waters for clams with my toes. Diving beneath the water, I hoist a clam up to show him my found treasure. I smile. Memories of summers on the Maryland shores always bring delight. When I see the wild ponies of Assateague, whether they are climbing the dunes, strolling by the shore or foraging through someone’s beach bag for food, it’s a peace I feel flowing through my veins that I am home. Then, there is my kitchen. Like a dragonfly’s metamorphosis from water to land, my transformation begins.
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