A steady, cooling breeze caresses our skin and flirts with our hair. Alternating patterns of bright sunlight and cloud shadows intermingle on the well-kept lawn stretching towards the water. A few errant seagrape leaves blow across the grass. Love bugs mate mid-air. A green anole extends its brightly colored dewlap and bobs up and down. Our entire view is of an unhurried and idyllic paradise...swaying palms, huge watercolor skies, and the wide expanse of Pine Island Sound. Skyward FBISD The horizon is occupied by steadfast and uncelebrated islands and keys. Wood Key. Black Key. Part Island. Inaccessible by foot or car, these unspoken-about places play at the imagination. Who owns them? Does anyone live on them? Minds wander to the ancient Calusa heritage of this area, filling in these blank islands with colorful and storied pasts. Shell mounds. Unfound Indian art. Sacred burial grounds. Untold secrets. Birds break the surface of of the water, diving beneath to hunt for fish. Fish break the surface of the air, jumping up to grasp at bugs. Small boats ride the borderlands, skimming across the rumpled surface of Pine Island Sound, sometimes docking at the Tarpon Lodge, sometimes heading for the Pineland Marina conveniently located nearby. An excited couple, in their early forties, emerge onto a balcony a few rooms away. They're on vacation, and they've just checked in at the Tarpon Lodge. Within minutes they're down at the pool in bathing suits, all huge smiles. This is the place they've been looking forward to visiting, marking big black X's each day on their calendar, an excruciating countdown. Now they're finally here and they immerse themselves into the experience of Southwest Florida as quickly as they immerse themselves into the outdoor pool. That's all it takes. A commitment to relax. I love watching them gaze in wide-eyed wonder at the newness around them. With the curiosity of babies, they've emerged from the womb of their normal lives into the wonder of a place so utterly different. Their heads rotate in wide arcs, taking the scenery in. When you find yourself gazing skyward in appreciation you'll know you've begun to unwind. Wild eyes absorb the tropical moments, romanticizing, writing to memory. Between playful splashes in the pool they reconnect in ways only a change of scenery can allow. The lure of the landscape is strong. Before long we're out of our chairs and exploring the Tarpon Lodge grounds by foot. We walk beneath flowers and foliage, low-hanging leaves and blossoms tickle our exposed skin. The rejuvenative scent of salt water is pervasive, massaging us with aromatherapy. The material of a shaded hammock hungrily grips at the curves of our bodies as we gently sway back and forth. Then it's off for a tryst with the virgin-white gazebo. We escape the sun by running beneath long-fronded coconut palms. We gaze up at their clusters of exotic fruit and run our hands along the ridged terrain of their stone hard trunks. Out on the dock, it's tongues of water lapping at wood, birds singing suggestive mating songs, and fish frantically splashing...all beneath the tattered linen of Egyptian cotton clouds. In less than a half hour we've gotten intimate with nature.