I've blogged plenty about my cherished childhood summers camping in the mountains. But before the van and the cross-state treks, there were the summer trips back to my granddaddy's stomping grounds of Port Aransas and Aransas Pass to play in the surf and, of course, fish.
Grandaddy was one of the workers on the causeway when it was built in 1931 and this was where he met and married my grandmother in the 40s.
The above was taken in 1973, when I burned my little baby feet on the scorching pavement, with each step saying "hot! hot!"
And the common denominator here is stringers of fish.
Oh, and the coconut head with shell eyes and teeth that I found so fascinating.
And while I was sporting this rocking straw hat, Dad had an even better one:
Depending on the summer, one year the beaches were covered in jellyfish, another in seaweed.
Fishing was a primary focus though, and it was always good.
And so were the hats. The little colored pom-poms on this year's model were especially good.
There were always fishing lessons to be had.
And always sandcastles to be built.
And bait to be caught.
The Island Retreat were the condominiums we stayed in most years, and the unit we stayed in sported a giant wooden fork and spoon on the panelled walls. I can't seem to locate that one, but the decor here will give you a good idea of the stylishness of the place.
There was also the pool, in case you'd had enough of the salt water for the day.
I think I am directing the invisible orchestra here in the waves.
We went back again in 1983 for the last time in my childhood. I'm showing off one of the whole sand dollars we'd collected from our stroll on the beach.
The seagulls were always happy to entertain us for the price of some bread heels.
This was the year we took a charter boat to do some deep water fishing. Alas, no marlins for us.
And while I am still partial to mountain sunsets, the ones over Mustang Island aren't too shabby.
Grandaddy was one of the workers on the causeway when it was built in 1931 and this was where he met and married my grandmother in the 40s.
The above was taken in 1973, when I burned my little baby feet on the scorching pavement, with each step saying "hot! hot!"
And the common denominator here is stringers of fish.
Oh, and the coconut head with shell eyes and teeth that I found so fascinating.
And while I was sporting this rocking straw hat, Dad had an even better one:
Depending on the summer, one year the beaches were covered in jellyfish, another in seaweed.
Fishing was a primary focus though, and it was always good.
And so were the hats. The little colored pom-poms on this year's model were especially good.
There were always fishing lessons to be had.
And always sandcastles to be built.
And bait to be caught.
The Island Retreat were the condominiums we stayed in most years, and the unit we stayed in sported a giant wooden fork and spoon on the panelled walls. I can't seem to locate that one, but the decor here will give you a good idea of the stylishness of the place.
There was also the pool, in case you'd had enough of the salt water for the day.
I think I am directing the invisible orchestra here in the waves.
We went back again in 1983 for the last time in my childhood. I'm showing off one of the whole sand dollars we'd collected from our stroll on the beach.
The seagulls were always happy to entertain us for the price of some bread heels.
This was the year we took a charter boat to do some deep water fishing. Alas, no marlins for us.
And while I am still partial to mountain sunsets, the ones over Mustang Island aren't too shabby.
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