The last morning is always tough. I don’t know about you, but I’m always torn by the anticipation of going home and finding MooseCat greeting us at our door and not wanting to leave such a wonderful place.

We went to breakfast at our favorite spot down by the water and sat at one of the picnic tables looking out at the light reflecting off …

I woke up early and went out to or porch to read until the light got interesting, then went out photographing.

As the sun rose, it made dancing reflections on the water. All too soon, it dissipated, and the day started in earnest. People started riding by on bicycles on their way to work; dogs trotted off to some important destination; the Ospreys left their nest above us in search of food; a Rasta-man sang nearby.

A bit later, we headed down the street— a sandy road, really — for breakfast. Freshly-squeezed orange juice and a veggie omelet for me. OJ and an island bagel for Arnie. A papaya-and-pineapple smoothie for my sister-in-law.

What I love about this small island is that if they run out of something, such as fresh pineapple, they pop across the street to any one of several small Chinese grocery stores and get a couple more. One of our first mornings back here, the restaurant had run out of oranges. No worries, Mon! In five minutes, our waiter was back with quite a few, and my OJ appeared shortly thereafter.

We did our usual wandering along the sandy roads, cameras in hand, stopping for this or that photograph. Around midday, we headed down to The Lazy Lizard for lunch.

As I was waiting to place our order, a small person caught my eye. It was clear that she wished to sit on the high seat next to me at the bar, and so I bent down and swung her up. It was also clear that she was here often, so I suspected that one or both of her parents worked here.

She was fascinated by my old, Southwestern bracelets and Ketchi basket earrings. She giggled when I wiggled my nose like an agouti, the Belizian version of a rabbit. Full of questions, she was a regular little chatterbox, and as you can see, a bit of a ham, too. As I found out, her mother worked in the kitchen, and so apparently …

During the day, from early morning when it gets light enough to late afternoon when the shade blocks out the interesting light, Arnie and I have been adding to our photographs for our exhibition next summer, Tropical Impressions from Belize, for those who are new to this blog. We are understandably not showing them here until after the show ends in July.

And for those of you who will be in North Carolina or southern Virginia, let us know, and we’ll send you an invitation to the reception July 14, Bastille Day. Considering that where we’ve been in Belize, a number of people speak Creole with a French infusion, that seems appropriate.

So, when the light no longer glows on our exhibition matter, we head to the west side of the island for the sunset. Sunsets can be a dime a dozen, but we always try to make ours different.

The images you see in the blog were all made within an hour of one another, but what a difference that hour can make.

As a sailor who has not recently had the opportunity to feel the sea breezes in my face and hear the lap of the waves on the hull, I am always looking at the water and the patterns on it…