Thursday, December 22, 2011

Marcus Cove, Only in my Dreams, by Sharon Powell

While traveling the southern part of Florida’s coastline, I stumbled upon a favorite vacation spot just a few hundred miles off shore. Nestled amongst massive palm trees and white sandy beaches, rests a tropical paradise off the coast of the Bahamas Island.

Commercial fishermen and several immigrants live year round on the island, while cruise ships and tourist boats transport wayfarers from afar, who, like many of us enjoy taking part in the excitement found within island retreats. Customarily, many of those living on the Island own or operate small businesses within the community, where an outlet for scavenger hunting and treasured keepsakes is found. Contemporary housing and business development are common sites on the Island, and small schools are randomly located throughout the island allowing permanent residents the resource for supporting family while enjoying the uniqueness of coastal lifestyles.

While visiting earlier this year, I discovered one of the most exciting retreats available on the island. Undoubtedly, large populations of island tourists flock to spend time within the privacy of “Marcus Coves.” Travelers from every part of the globe rely upon the “Coves” special features to provide a week-end of fabulous adventures, while relaxing in the splendor of “white sandy beaches” and warm sunshine.

While visiting “Marcus Cove,” I noticed cabins surrounded by beautiful landscapes, allowing guests to become a part of the natural habitat found within most tropical settings and marine life. The island also provides an explosive view of botanical Gardens revealing “bright red “rhododendron,” bursting with color, as we escape to enjoy the passive sides of life.

For those enjoying an afternoon for nature hikes, the Botanical Gardens quite frequently cater to the needs of wild life, and it is not uncommon to find the colorful “Morpho” butterfly, flit from flower to flower while feeding on sweet nectar hidden amongst fields of velvet “ spiderwort,” and endless fields of tall wheat grasses.” Gazing upon what was once a caterpillar’s homeland, the winged insect now soars freely throughout the sky.

Most inhabitants of the tropics are very differet when compared to those living amongst the hustle and bustle of inner-city life. On a calm day, one might hear the faint chatter of “love birds” conversing with a neighboring “Toucan.” Or, perhaps you’ll find yourself sitting quietly watching thundering tides rush inland; only to see them fade into the surface of the sand, leaving in its midst a puddle of white grain and salty earth while young children watch their dreams come to life with sand castle and moats of days gone by.

Finding time to relax, I stretched my arms out high above me; feeling the warmth of the sun cover my body like a warm blanket. I couldn’t help but notice the paleness of my skin turn colorful shades of pink and red; only to feel the “blistery” aftermath rest atop my nose by day’s end. Peering down before me I notice the sands “tickling sensation” distract me as almond colored grains of time squish outward between polished toes and sand bur. Briskly, I run the path stretched far along the coastline, while morning showers fall above me, quenching the heat from my body, only to cease as quickly as it came.

The days pass quickly on Marcus Cove, and finally, we “awe” within the stillness of a “setting sun” as it slowly descends upon endless tides, sleeping until the birth of anew shines its guiding light into tomorrow. Contemplating the splendor of the day, I find myself searching for shelter, while hunger suddenly overwhelms me. Scents of “fresh pineapple and white fish” sear slowly over hot coals, then, linger freely throughout the night air while our mouths thirst for more.

Quietly, we settle in by warm fires; enjoying the sweet goodness of chilled coconut. Heavenly “Rains” fill the “hollowed nut;” soon to become too heavy a burden for support. Falling freely to the ground they lie amongst the splendor of palm leaf, and evergreen twig for all to enjoy. The faint sounds of island drums linger in the distance, while flames of desire seek gifts from the “Huntress,” dancing in rhythmic time.

I treasure the memories cast deep within me, vowing to hide them from pagans view. I’ll savor the moments spent on Marcus Cove, and remember its beauty and gentleness. I’ll find it again someday, encased safely within the seeds of life, then, relive the memory of that blessed day…..S.Powell, 2009