There’s something in low country life that is good for my soul. The air is different here—livelier, I think, rejuvinating. I tell myself I’d like to live nearer to these crashing waves, but then I’m reminded of Steinbeck’s quote about climate, and I’m thankful I spend most of my days situated far away in the mountains. But I do find inspiration like no other on these shores. I pick up a handful of sand, the grains pouring from the cracks between my fingers, and something awakens inside me, something I cannot express but love to experience. This is where my childishness thrives, where my grown-up concerns melt away, where my inspiration is fetterless.