At home, I watch the clock. I know when I need to be at my desk, when I need to leave for the gym, when dinner needs to go into the oven, and exactly how many hours I have left before a book deadline. But here in the South Carolina Low Country, I’ve found myself watching something else. The tide.
We’re spending part of September at my husband’s family’s home on Bohicket Creek, where the view outside the windows changes constantly. At high tide, the water rises beneath the docks and fills the creeks that wind through the marsh. Boats pass by. The water sparkles between the grasses, and everything looks wonderfully peaceful. A few hours later, much of it is mud. Not particularly attractive mud, either. Low Country pluff mud is dark and sticky and has a smell all its own. At low tide, it appears beneath the docks and along the banks, exposing oyster beds and all sorts of things that had been hidden beneath the water.
And then the tide turns.
A Different Kind of Clock
My husband grew up here, so he pays attention to the tides without really thinking about it. If he wants to catch shrimp, take out the kayak, or do something around the docks, the question isn’t just What time is it?
It’s What’s the tide doing?
I’ve been married to him for decades and have visited this property more times than I can count, but I still find the rhythm fascinating. Because the tide doesn’t care about my schedule. It doesn’t care that I have book revisions to finish, blog posts to write, laundry waiting upstairs, or a long list of things I need to accomplish before we leave for Europe.
The tide comes in. The tide goes out. And somewhere in between, it turns around and begins again. There is something wonderfully reassuring about that.
I’ve spent much of this week working while surrounded by family, occasionally getting up from my computer to look out the window or walk down toward the docks. Every time I do, the view is slightly different from the one I saw a few hours earlier. Sometimes the creek is full. Sometimes the marsh seems to stretch forever. Sometimes someone is out throwing a shrimp net. And sometimes the setting sun catches the water just as the tide is changing and everything turns gold.
Then I go back inside and return to my deadlines. The clock is still ticking. My work still needs to get done. But for a few minutes, at least, I’m reminded that not everything has to move according to my schedule. The tide keeps its own time.
After 50 years at our place it’s nice to renew our vision of the low country thru your eyes
Love, Poppy and Nana
Thank you, Poppy. It’s always such a joy to spend time with you and Nana down there.