When the sun reaches its northernmost point and lingers over low tide longer than normal, we drag both shrimping holes, pack the ice chest to the top, let our fingers get pruney and conversations ripple across the creek. It’s a day we rollick under rays and savor the salty air because it only comes once a year.
Celeste Allen 
A midsummer’s daydream I remember clam diving
Dam Cligger
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