After last week’s post on the horrendous birthday adventure I gave Bill, I feel the need to help Florida redeem itself a little. So let me introduce you to Sanibel Island, an unbelievable place mere minutes from our home.

When first researching the area after hearing of Bill’s stations interest, I happened upon a few things – the sleepy downtown, the Edison & Ford Winter Estates, the incredible shopping in Naples, and the rest of the typical touristy stuff. But then I happened upon Sanibel, pictures of which prompted a few seconds of speechlessness, frantic emails to my mom, and probably a squeal or two in my highest key. 

I made Bill take me as soon as we got here. I can’t think of too many places more magical. Yes, I said MAGICAL.

Heading over the walkway, you can already tell it’s not your average beach. In fact, you can feel in the air that there is something different about this place…

And removing your shoes, you notice that in the place of your normal sand, this beach has these.

EVERYWHERE.

There are sand dollars the size of your hand.

And of course, more seashells.

Bill admired them from way up here. (By that I mean 6 feet and 7 inches off the ground.)

While I spent most of the time picking up every third shell I saw to show him. We made a deal that I could only take one home, and the winner was a little guy that faded from yellow to white to pink.

And Indy? Well, Indy appreciated the shells so much that she pooped on them. A lot. Immediately. And didn’t feel an ounce of remorse.

And so the sun set on my childlike giddiness, Bill’s quiet admiration, and Indy’s utter disregard for the sacred beauty of the natural world.

And the only thing that could top off such a surreal moment in our lives was. of course, calamari and mango sangria at the Island Cow, a beach shack on the way home. Partially because I wasn’t ready for the feeling to end and partially because Bill is always hungry, in true Halter style. So see, Florida is not all bad. In fact, I believe the saying goes a little something like “Live where you vacation”, yes? Well, despite leaving paradise to move 3,000 miles across the country, we’ve still managed to have that covered.