January

The year begins with a walk along the beach between the waves of the Atlantic and the marshes and maritime forest of Hunting Island State Park, South Carolina. The same beach, where a few days before, I spot a dolphin swim in the shallow waters.  

The period from Midwinter to New Year takes us from the southernmost mountains of Appalachia, on the border of Tennessee, Alabama, and Georgia, to South Carolina’s Low Country and Sea Islands. Skammdegi - the shortest days or the darkest days in Icelandic - become longer and warmer as we reach South Carolina’s coast. 

Winter solstice: we spend the day outside embracing the little light the shortest days of midwinter provide with a hike down to waterfalls, and then, at around 4 pm, marvel at the uninterrupted views of the sun setting across Tennessee’s mountains. On the winter solstice, I fall into a deep sleep at 5 pm, not waking again until three hours later. I sleep for almost the longest night. Rest. Restore. Now, the days become longer again. The pandemic has encouraged us to venture outside more, to socialize outside more, even in the darkest days of the year. I’ve long wanted to feel connected to midwinter and the winter solstice, and this year the universe forced us to embrace. 

Before we leave Tennessee, we stop in Chattanooga to buy small gifts, local foods, and cards. Cards which I’ll send in the New Year to friends and family across the United States and Europe. Now, on my fourth trip to this small Tennessee city on the border with Georgia, I have a routine of breakfast biscuits, locally roasted coffee - always best enjoyed by the roaring Tennessee River that flows through Chattanooga, and a visit to a gift store in the city’s Northshore District. 

Then, onto South Carolina, where big purple skies, cotton fields, and marshlands greet us after driving through Georgia. Our home until 2021 is in Beaufort, South Carolina. Sheltered from the Atlantic by the Sea Islands, which are rich in Gullah culture and history. We, too, shelter here between years, obligations, and responsibilities. Shelter from the pandemic that will soon enter its second year. In South Carolina, with the warmer air and long beaches, we can walk uninterrupted and return to the private porch of the house we’ve rented. 

We continue buying locally sourced gifts and foods in Charleston on Christmas Eve. Travel in a pandemic only gives you a taste of the destination and inspires a return in a post-pandemic world for the full experience. But, still, we head to Charleston with the first stop at a cheese store, Goat. Sheep. Cow., for a Christmas Eve cheese board to enjoy outside on our porch -- a novelty for visitors from DC here in December. On the porch, the cicadas are faint, and in Beaufort, the palm trees, although dormant, are wrapped in lights. After all, It is still winter, albeit warmer than anywhere I’ve called home, and the palm trees, too, they rest. To my European eyes, at least, holiday decorations look out of place here. 

On the porch, on Christmas Eve, the sound of cicadas fades as swirling winds pick up, breaking for rain and the temperature drops. I’m reminded how far away friends and family are right now, physically. However, messages come through from France, Italy, and the United Kingdom from friends, family, former teachers, and former colleagues. Together. Apart. Christmas somewhere else. 

On Christmas morning, the sky has cleared after the rain, and although the temperature drops 20 degrees, we head to Hunting Island State park fueled by coffee, bagels, and schmear -- this year is a time to create new traditions. Another novelty: writing holiday messages in the sand with a stick; I photograph the messages, with the Atlantic waves crashing in the background, and send them across the world to friends and family not on the beach this Christmas morning. We return and warm up with Tortellini in Brodo, a new tradition, a traditional dish that will be eaten across Italy today. Has been eaten with the time difference

“You will never be completely at home again because part of your heart always will be elsewhere. That is the price you pay for the richness of loving and knowing people in more than one place.” -- Miriam Adney.

Boxing Day, although not a holiday in the United States, I maintain we’ll continue to mark and name December 26th. It is more than a day; it is a feeling. A day without expectations compared to the preceding days. A day for walks, and this year’s walk takes us to Hilton Head Island, where we photograph the dunes that separate the beachfront homes from the wide stretch of sand and the ocean. A lunch of fried flounder, outside by the Intracoastal waterways, and a sign reminds us not to feed the alligators. 

We continue the week between Boxing Day to New Year outside as the days continually warm up. A self-guided walking tour of the trees, draped in Spanish Moss, of Beaufort. We drive south across the state line into Georgia to visit Savannah and Tybee Island. Savannah, will I one day move here to renovate a home? Recently, an article in vogue was published about the health benefits of Yaupon, the only natural caffeine in North America, and comes from the Yaupon Holly trees native to the Southeastern United States. We visit the Yaupon Teahouse, and although it is closed on Tuesdays, the owner welcomes us in to learn about the background of Yaupon and his business. He tells us how they were caught off guard by the Vogue article and have packaged boxes to send Yaupon across the United States - and beyond. During a hike on nearby Ossabaw Island, a naturalist introduced him to Yaupon and shared more about the medicinal properties. Native American communities used Yaupon for its many health benefits, including anti-inflammatory properties, healing wounds, and calming nerves. We leave with elderberry Yaupon teas, loose-leaf to aid digestion, Yaupon face masks, and a desire to visit Ossabaw Island. 

2020 becomes 2021. 

This year, there are no crowds in Sydney or London. 

I wake up after a restful, uninterrupted sleep to a new year, the second year of the pandemic. The morning is light, and the day will be warm. Temperatures in the low 70s welcome in 2021—the light of a clear blue morning. Looking out into the Atlantic, we can now discuss events as “this year,” not “next year.” While 2021 won’t be easy, we’ll never be in 2020 again. We will never return to 2020. The mist on the beach creates a light fog around the trees and lighthouse in the distance, and after walking from one end of the beach to the other, I rest beneath the dunes in the warm, January sand. 

Favorite spots in Savannah: 

• The Grey Market for to-go cocktails during COVID times; we’ll return when we can enjoy The Grey Restaurant, inside an art deco former Greyhound Bus Terminal. Also seen on The Chef’s Table on Netflix. 

• Big Bon Bodega for chicken salad bagels and strong drip coffee. 

• ShopSCAD features the Savannah College of Art and Design alumni, students, and faculty's artwork and designs. 

• Zunzi’s South African Sandwiches. The Frikkadel Vegan “meatballs” with a cup of sweet tea are highly recommended.