Broadkill Beach

An abandoned beach front property along the Delaware Bay in Broadkill Beach–even though the area was once a favorite with squatters, this shack belongs to the lots' legal owner.

M* and I escaped our hectic lifestyle with another trip to the Delmarva Peninsula (Delaware-Maryland-Virginia for those not in the know). We went down to Broadkill Beach where my dad and stepmother have a shore home—a modern shore home outfitted with satellite TV, gourmet kitchen and wi-fi. Broadkill was originally Broad Kiln meaning wide river or wide creek–kiln is a Dutch word, I believe. The area was first settled, after the Native Americans of course, by the Dutch and Swedes.

Fishing is the favorite pastime with the locals.

A relic of the WWII Delaware Bay defense system (not really sure what it's purpose was)

My dad had lured us down there with promises of witnessing the migration of snow geese to their winter resting spot at the Prime Hook National Wildlife Refuge, which just happens to border my dad's backyard. However, the snow geese must have been too busy at Pumpkin Chunkin or looked for shelter away from the remnants of a hurricane that moved through on Friday night. Instead we visited Nassau Valley Winery.

Lena, a Great Dane that thinks she's a lap dog, keeps M* company as he performs a very American activity–relaxing on the couch, watching sports and eating potato chips.

The winery touts its status as Delaware's first and only award winning winery–my dad joked that it's because its the state's only winery. I'm sorry to say that after sampling five of the wines, I had to agree with him. I also agreed with his statement that one feels compelled to buy a bottle of wine at each vineyard that is visited–now in California or France this is something that I'm happy to do. We did try a peach dessert wine that we found to be passable, and my dad, without tasting it first, bought two bottles of chardonnay. Luckily the spicy kabobs he made that night vastly improved the taste of the wine.

M* carried this piece of driftwood quite a ways back to the house. Here, he gladly pauses to take a photo.

The rest of the weekend was spent trawling the aisles of the local grocery store–my dad's favorite pastime, watching TV (sports and the horrible CSI: Miami–my dad's favorite show) and walking on the beach–Sunday was sunny and beautiful. This type of beach living is far more relaxing, I find, than the crowded, traffic clogged Santa Monica area beaches. Granted, one can enjoy warmer temperatures for sunbathing in California, but I prefer to stay white and pasty anyway.