View From a Prairie Home

by Hege Hernfindahl, Columnist

It has been a very long and very difficult winter for everybody here on the prairie. Snow every day almost. Winds which swirls the snow around creating snowdrifts and sometimes ice on the roads and sidewalks. Freezing rain turning to snow that makes walking hazardous at times.

Many of us have spent days inside, not daring to venture outdoors for fear of falling or sliding into the ditch with our cars. Along the roads the snowdrifts are at times so high, it is hard to see when turning a corner.

It is, of course, a blessing not having to go to work since we are both retired. It is a blessing to have a warm house and also plenty of books and games and friends to text with or call. But, at times, the at-home-staying can feel too much. It can feel that this winter will never end.

So, a few weeks ago, we managed to escape. We had friends who had tried getting away, but their flight was cancelled. But we were lucky. Our flight got out and only three hours later, we landed in Houston to bare roads and green grass.

We had rented a car, which we always do, Grant being a courageous driver, but this time, we had to wait two hours in line to get it. By the time we got to our rented condo on North Padre Island, it was dark. But here, the dark was magical. The wind was strong, but soft and smelled of salt. We had bought a bottle of wine and brought our glasses out on the little deck and just sat there, breathing. After the stress of last year filled with cancer and death and trauma, we had decided to escape, not only winter, but also our everyday lives, and just relax. We had no agenda beyond to just be.

North Padre had been picked because of the lack of crowds. Information gleaned from googling and pondering. And our research payed off. North Padre Island has miles and miles and miles of untouched beaches due to being a National Seashore. Therefore the nature is untouched with sand dunes and flocks of birds. Where we stayed, within the boundaries of the city of Corpus Christi, had some hotels and condos. But either it was off-season or this is normal, there seemed to be almost no people. Padre Island is the longest barrier island in the world. It is 113 miles long and 1.8 miles wide and runs along Texas on one side and the Gulf of Mexico on the other.

It was, for us, a paradise. No crowds. Nothing to do, except hike and nap and read. The ocean was cold with rip tides so we didn’t swim, but the sand was compacted due to the rise and fall of the tide, ideal for hiking. And we did. One day five miles. Another seven. Sometimes on the sand in tennis shoes. Other times on the water’s edge barefoot. The gulls and the pelicans and other unknown (to us) seabirds swirled above us, treating us with their cries and song. The wind always blew from the Gulf, washing up pieces of wood or water bottles or whatever people had thrown in the water. We would pick it up and deposit it in the many trash cans positioned every quarter of a mile or so.

At night, we would come “home” to relax and eat and read. We never went to a restaurant, but shopped local markets and prepared an array of fish and shrimp dishes which we ate with locally produced vegetables. Because of all the fresh air, healthy food and exercise, we slept deep and hard. And woke up to have coffee on our little deck.

But, alas, all good things must end. We had planned to go to San Antonio too. But I grieved leaving our beach hiking life behind. But San Antonino was nice. Our condo was right on the River Walk. An again we hiked, but there were people, of course, and sometimes even crowds. After a while, we found the roof deck, and we would sit and view the city lights and hear the music from all the outside venues. And life was relaxing again.

We did miraculously make it home, just before another big snow event. And I sit here now, looking over the white prairie and am grateful for the memory of the wild beaches of Padre Island.