Life in Bama is just how I like it–quiet yet full of life, interesting sights, and endless sounds. Quiet and full of sounds? Just one of the paradoxes on the coast.

As I sit inside all I hear is the gentle, nearly silent sound of my dehumidifier pulling more moisture from the soggy air. Then the wind gusts pick up, and my camper and neighboring RVs creak in response. Tango and I walk outside and no one is up yet.  All I hear the muffled sound of ocean waves just beyond the trees. From offshore, the comforting sound of the lighthouse gong reaches me. Then, the birds start squabbling. Park staff fire up a leaf blower. A dog barks.

Some mornings, the noise precedes the quiet. In the dark, boats with heavy engines start idling then slogging out to sea, their sound floating behind them for miles. This is often my wake-up call, but this morning the stormy seas tell the floating beasts to stay moored at their docks. I slept in.

Life is the same as the sounds, alternating between quiet and vibrant. Days spent reading, then the women’s march in Pensacola. Wandering around the bayous and sleepy towns on my way to Mobile for shopping, where life moves city fast.

Now, Mari Gras preparations! Stores are full of beads, banners, and moon pies (which are thrown to parade goers from the floats). Even Dauphin Island has a parade and folks will drive across the bridge for rowdy weekend. Although it is unlikely that I will raise my shirt and show the girls in hopes of getting beads, I will enjoy the show! The parade goes right by the campground and I hope to just pull up a chair.

In the meantime, mostly quiet with a chance of neighboring voices. The wind still gusts, the sky is gray, and the temperatures have fallen. It will be one of those peaceful days on Dauphin Island, unless the tornado sirens sound off again.