Tropical Tuesday - Coconut Beach Club, Antigua

Another storm is inbound to my part of Canada, and it's supposed to bring up to 25cm (about a foot) of snow with it. Fun, eh?  So in my never-ending attempt to drive myself crazy with photos of warm, sunny, sandy beaches, I thought I'd look for a place I could pick my own coconut. Googling coconut beach found me this lovely place--I could go with a day on this beach!


Spend the day at this beach? Sign me up!

It's a couples place- no kids allowed except during the Christmas holidays, so just peace and quiet and time in a hammock. You can choose to go with their all-inclusive plan or go with room only, and the rates are reasonable.

Ahh, the sea breezes and a swaying hammock...

You can find out more about the Coconut Beach Club, Antigua here. Or follow them on twitter at @CBCantigua .

So while I warm up my shovel, and batten down the hatches, I'll be daydreaming of coconuts on the beach. How about you? Only three more months til summer!

Brenda

Note: My Tropical Tuesday posts are mostly daydreams. I've not been to Antigua before, so I can't guarantee a perfect vacation here. Photos are taken from Coconut Beach Club's website.



 

 

Tropical Tuesday

(L to R) Me, Yelena, Tina

What a great week I've had! Broadway plays, jazz clubs, shopping, visits...New York was a blast. Still thrilled to have met Jennifer and Fran, and also got to meet writer friends Tina Moss and Yelena Casale, as well as my amazing cousins Robin and Corey. So fun! My feet are still complaining, and I might have put on a few travel pounds sampling restaurants with my hubby (Spanish Tapas on the last night just about did me in), but I had a great time. Can't wait to go back again.



After an amazing, if somewhat chilly, trip to New York City, I've returned to even chillier Canada. It's COLD here. And Spring is months away, *sad face* so I've been day-dreaming and looking at more tropical beaches just for fun. I thought I'd post a wee Tropical Tuesday to tease you...and torment me!


 

Picture from Wikipedia

One of the most amazing places I've been fortunate enough to visit (other than New York City this past week...) was the tiny island of Rarotonga, in the warm and beautiful south Pacific. Part of the Cook Islands, it is almost completely surrounded by beaches, and at the time (a, ah-hem, few years ago) it was relatively unspoiled. We stayed in what was then called the Rarotongan Resort Hotel, but from what I can see, it's now called the Rarotongan Beach Resort and Spa. (click on the link for more pictures of the beaches and water...)It was a simple place, but the beaches were clean, clear and gorgeous. We ate octopus (ick), fresh coconut (yum) and explored the island on scooters.

Picture from Cook Islands Discovery Tours

And it was WARM. So amazingly warm. Wouldn't you like to go there? I think it has great potential for my next writer's retreat. Who's in? Maybe if we sign enough of us up, they'll give us a discount?

Brenda

Wintery Wednesday

Zeus and I (photo credit: Vicki Morrison)

As a result of this wickedly wintery weather we've been having, I've been working a lot on my WIP tentatively titled FROZEN. It's set in present-day rural Maine, in a snowmageddon type of storm, and the world's supply of oil is basically gone. I posted a small excerpt a few weeks ago.

Anyway, it's pretty easy to work on something like this when just walking outside freezes your nostrils shut. Today's high is in the -15F range. I've been soaking in the heat from the woodstove, working on this and having a rather good writing streak.  Thought I would share a bit more with you all. Keep warm and enjoy.

It’s so cold the snow makes that squeaking sound as I walk down the driveway. My nose hairs freeze together and my breath fogs the air, blurring the winter world before me. I’m thankful for Mom’s coat, which is too big but warm, and for my new mittens that I managed to knit myself with only a couple of dropped stitches. I'll never be a competitive knitter, if such a thing exists. Bomber barks and strains at his chain as I walk by, not to hurt me but because he’s not keen on being left alone outside.

“Sorry, Bomb,” I mutter through my already-damp wool scarf. “I’m late.” He whines once and then disappears through the crooked door of his shack. He’s not sticking around in the cold. Smart dog.

I trudge down to the road—squeak, squeak, squeak—trailing behind Frankie and Meadow, the twins, wishing I could stay home where it’s warm. No such luck. I pull my scarf further up around my face and scrunch my neck to escape the wind, mentally reviewing my list as I turn right and head down the hill to the stop. Fire stocked, check. Lights off, check. Animals fed, check. Door locked, check… the roaring of the bus behind me interrupts my list.

“Crap.”

Our bus driver is notorious for leaving kids in the dirt. “Crappity-crap.” I grasp my bag tightly, and sprint the last hundred feet to the stop—skidding to a halt at the same time as the bus. The door screeches even louder than the brakes, and old George the bus driver scowls as I follow my brother and sister on, slamming the door shut with a squeaky clunk. The whole bus could use a coat of oil. I can hear my dad’s voice in my head. It all comes down to oil now, Janie-girl. We don’t have it…and only those who know how to live without it will survive.

 

 

Brenda.