Posted on June 10, 2009
To celebrate our first decade of wedded bliss, Pearsall and I took a quick trip to St. John in the U.S. Virgin Islands. Other than an overnight jaunt to a fabulous inn last October, this was our first time away from the kids together. We were grateful to have some willing kidsitters among family members in Atlanta, where we hopped on MARTA, a plane to St. Thomas, a ferry next door and Jeep to our spot in the hills.
It was so luxurious to have time to ourselves in such a beautiful place. Two-thirds of hilly St. John is U.S. National Park, so it is chock full of lush trees that resemble broccoli mountains. Turquoise waters lap quietly onto the dozens of beaches, both rocky and sandy. You might see donkeys, goats or Kenny Chesney, plucking a tune. Hiking, snorkeling, reading, lounging. Fresh fish, the occasional boat drink. Pure bliss.
I should dig up a wedding pic to post alongside this one…