Island Fever

Spring Fever is beginning to set its claws in me.  Wildlife and birds are frisky, flowers are appearing and blooming, trees and bushes are budding, we're seeing more sunshine.  I have a heightened interest in all things equine, I have a renewed interest in homes for sale (even though I have no extra money), and I begin to hear the siren calls of Assateague and Chincoteague Islands.  New foals, the Triple Crown, a home on the island, ponies frisking on the marsh, the sound of the wind, gulls, sea, and the smell of Chincoteague marsh mud...  This is what heaven should consist of.
   I can't believe I'll be setting foot on Chincoteague and Assateague in four months.  Kathy and Jim say they are getting excited; their kids say they are getting excited, and they are getting their spouses and kids excited about visiting the family's old stomping grounds.  Colorado is majestic, huge, breath-taking.  But I feel the pull of tides in my blood; the need to plant something; the need to be on, or near, the sea.  To hear the boom of the surf is wondrous.  To smell the salt air, see the sun glare on the water, hear the cries of the sea birds, to squint against the sun even when wearing sun glasses, to be close to, and a part of, the rhythms of life on this earth is a magical feeling.  I can almost achieve a feeling of peace and one-ness with the universe when I'm alone on the side of a mountain.  I can easily reach, touch, and wrap that feeling around me anywhere on Chincoteague or Assateague Island, or on (or in) the surrounding waters.  Island fever - that's my life.