“Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day. You shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.” ― Ralph Waldo Emerson

A honey hole (or honeyhole) is slang for a location that yields a valued commodity or resource. A local landmark or road near a honey hole may have "Honey Hole" in its name.   In fishing, a honey hole could be a particular spot in a body of water (or used as a general term for the entire body of water) where conditions are ideal for catching fish. In popular culture, American Pickers, a documentary reality television series where the stars often refer to some "picks" as honey holes because of the amount of amazing objects they contain.                       

(From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia)

I love daylight savings time!  The long dark early evenings of winter are over (well the Florida winter never really started but the dark is gone here in SWFL)  The sun now sets at 7:45pm instead of the earlier 6pm of the "fall back" pre-daylight savings time.  I am a "spring ahead" girl for sure.  Those extra few hours of daylight lend themselves to a significant amount of late afternoon beach time.  Low tide was at 6pm on Boca Grande Monday evening.  Clan Gee & I grabbed our shelling and fishing gear and made the 14 mile drive out to Boca Grande aka beach heaven.

As the boys fished, Momma Gee and I strolled down the beach - me shelling - she taking pictures.  I was finding a nice shell here and there.  Momma is into jingles right now so I was keeping an eye out for those.  We saw Ospreys nesting, manatees bobbing up for air in the channel next to the shore & 100's of shore birds of every kind. It was a nice quiet peaceful walk.  The kind of walk that calibrates one's self back to the stillness instead of the busyness of the day. Whatever.  Where are the shells?

As Momma Gee walked on the wet sand I plowed through the shallows of the outgoing tide looking for any shell stragglers caught on the bottom.  As we neared brothers Geeman & Wade-ster I went out further in the water to dodge their fishing line.  Holy moley! What am I stepping on?  I was on a huge shell pile in about 3 feet of water.  I started shoveling and sifting.  Buried under the tides were a massive compacted pile of shells. As I started sorting through every shovelful, I threw the nicest ones up on the beach for Momma Gee.  I was in pursuit of the elusive cream colored brown spotted shell.  I had to work quickly because the sun was now setting and  the tide was turning.  Did I mention hammerheads feed at dusk?  Then the worst possible thing happens!  My shell shovel breaks.  Yup, I shovelled the end right off.  Ratz!  I'm standing in a huge shell honeyhole with nothing to dig with.  As I sink into disappointment and accept the reality of my situation... I remember! My bait net is 200 yards up the beach where we left our towels. All's well that ends well but I am still out of breath.  

 

Originally built in 1890, the  Boca Grande Lighthouse has been restored and a sister building built to house the park ranger.

Sand dunes and sea oats abound on Boca Grande.

Thoughts can wander aimlessly as Momma Gee meanders  up the beach.

Good things come to those who bait.

  The pain is in the resistance.  Accept that it's broken. (Photo Credit:  Momma Gee)

Happy happy happy again!  Always have options. (Photo Credit:  Momma Gee)

No junonia this time but lots of horse conchs, tulips, and nutmegs. (Photo Credit:  Momma Gee)

I'm a flip flop girl living in a flip flop world!  (Photo Credit:  Momma Gee)

Honeyhole keepers.

This olive measured 3" long.  Doesn't the marking look Native American?