Drip Castles

"I"m gonna fly to where the sky meets the land
And the living is not planned
And the children can laugh just
Cause they're living."  Dan Fogelberg

After nearly twenty five years, I can finally begin to remember our family's beach house and beach without feeling pain and regret. It's one thing to own a house, it's quite another to say we owned a beach.  No, we had no deed to the sand and water.  But for years we were the only people who used "our beach" so it seemed like our ownership extended from the house, across Highway 98, down the dunes, across the sand into the Gulf of Mexico.

I was a happy child.  I was a very happy child. And why not? Wouldn't you be happy if you lived 90 miles from Laguna Beach, Florida and spent several weeks a year frolicking in the blue/green waters of the Gulf of Mexico?  Actually, I spent more time playing on the white sands than I did in the water.  Since before I can remember, my mother taught me how to make drip castles. I would first dig a hole near the water's edge.  I dug the hole deep enough for it to hit water and create a pool.  That wet sand became the brick and mortar of the castle.  I would pile up globs of the wet sand as the foundation and the central part of the structure. After a few minutes the wet sand dried like cement. Then I would pick up the wet sand with my  hand and let it drip through my fingers forming the turrets of the castle.  If I formed a large enough foundation, the castle could support quite a number of these turrets that surrounded the structure. The challenge then was to drip and connect these turrets with sand bridges forming porticoes around the castle. This was an intricate and painstaking process. After I was satisfied with my creation, I would build roads around the structure complete with moats and  draw bridges made of sticks and straw. The end result was a rather large masterpiece of sand and water. A drip castle. Many times beachgoers would stop to  admire my creation and ask me questions about how it was done.  I was always glad to show them how the drip process worked. It was not unusual over the next few days for me to see rudimentary drip castles all along the shore. No matter how large or ornate, all of the drip castles I constructed had one thing in common. That night the incoming tide washed them all away. The next morning all that was left was white sand. So I started over and did it all again.

But the most fun I had on the beach happened about a hundred yards west of our beach.  A large fresh water lake resided across Highway 98.  Overflow flowed through a culvert spillway onto our beach.  The stream it made was about three feet across and a few inches deep. However, the canyon it created could be two or three feet deep. This stream flowed from the lake, under the highway, across our beach into the gulf water.  The fun came in with what I did with the water.  Building a dam of sand was harder than it  may seem.  Piling up sand to block the stream started out easy enough.  But the more sand I piled up, the faster the water flowed in between those piles of sand on either side of the stream. This of course eroded the dam I was trying to build.  But if I worked hard enough, and I did, eventually I could cover the last hole and dam the whole thing. Now the water swirled and piled up behind my dam.  I continued to pile up sand on the dam so that the water would continue to rise up the sides of its cliff. The result was a swirling pool about three feet deep.   Besides the accomplishment of the dam itself, there was what I did next.  After I had enjoyed my dam all I wanted, with my index finger I made one small crevice in the dam.  Water flows downhill.  And water under pressure flows downhill fast.  What started as a single stream of water became a larger and larger flow.  Within minutes, the water that had been swirling behind my dam was roaring down the creek bed. It was flowing fast enough to  create ripples and erode the sides of the cliff.  Often the cliff walls would break and fall into the rushing water and be swept into the Gulf of Mexico.   So why was all this fun?  You'd have to ask a kid.

My mother and my aunt sold the "cottage" for their own financial reasons.  My wife and I were in no position to buy it. After belonging to our family for more than forty years, the deed to the "cottage" passed to complete strangers. Now when you drive by the house, there's a big sign on the dunes at the path to the beach that reads, "No trespassing. Owner's only."  So I guess they actually think they not only own the house, but own the beach as well. We pretended it was our beach, but we knew better. And anyone was welcome to use the path to gain access to the beach. But be careful what you think you own, because in time it will all be washed away.

Shortly before He left the earth, Jesus said, "In my house are many mansions." When I go to my reward, I don't want a mansion on a hilltop. Please give me a beach house big enough for my family and friends that is just across the road from the dunes of an incredible gulf. Please include plenty of pelicans and an occasional  school of dolphins. It will be nice if the house is right on the beach, but it's not necessary. Give me azure/green water that laps in gentle waves to the shore. Let the waves and current create an ankle deep sandbar that you can wade to in chest deep water. And give me miles upon miles of white sand glistening like diamonds in the sun. Since I'll have forever to build castles, I will need a lot of sand. And give me the stuff to make a big sign that reads, "Path to the beach. Everyone welcome." All but a few of supervising adults can stay in the house playing cards and telling family stories. The children can run down the dunes to the beach where they can  body surf, boogie board or play in the sand. And  Mama and I can create masterpieces together of dripping sand and water. I'm good at it, but it will take an eternity for me to be as good as she.