It rained two of the four days we stayed at Fort Meyers beach.
Yet the air was warm, filled with the sweet smells of palms and hibiscus bushes, and after weeks of shivering through the dreadful polar vortex up north, we couldn't really be bothered by the heady humidity of rain in the air.
Ostensibly, we flew to Florida to visit Zack's sister.
Still, when you fly to Florida in January, you really can't help but also wish to see the sun.
The cloud cover gave way on Saturday and we finally had a dry day of it.
You couldn't have dragged us from the beach if you's tried; we had books and sunscreen, a cooler of Reisling and snacks. Zack chased the sandpipers when I dared him to and we took turns filming the crashing waves with his parents new GoPro camera: all underwater bubbles and close ups of sand.
We stayed out till our skin was just rosy enough to promise pain come morning.
It was just what we needed.
PS. Since it is prominantly pictured (and if you are curious), I was not a great fan of The Chaperone. My opinion was certainly skewed by the fact that I read two fantastic books directly before I began this one (The History of Love and a re-reading of The Book Thief. Both Amazing). But for all it has been cracked up to be "just like The Paris Wife," I found the story lacking. It attempted too much and the pacing of the plot was terribly uneven; I doubt I'd read it again. That said, it did not spoil our beach day, so it was not all bad.
If anyone wishes to form their own opinion, just let me know and you may have my copy.