I decided to treat this trip as a mini writing retreat. I carried my laptop, notebooks, pens, and allotted blocks of time daily just to write.
Early mornings, I sat under our awning with coffee and wrote memoir bursts — prompts about travel, nature, transition. Midday, I wandered trails and collected sensory notes: a breeze’s pattern, a bird call, the feel of palm fronds. Late afternoon, I processed drafts in the clubhouse lounge, headphones on, ambient music, occasional bird song creeping in.
Meals were practical but nourishing: grilled chicken, quinoa salad, roasted veggies; tuna melts for lunch; fresh fruit always on hand. I baked blueberry muffins one morning and shared them with neighbors.
On our last evening, I sat under string lights by the picnic table, reviewing my journal entries and selecting a few pieces to polish later. The gentle chirp of insects, distant calls, and warm air seemed like a lullaby coaxing me to keep writing.
This place invites contemplation. You could come here just to write, to rest, to slow down — and be met with quiet, inspiration, and gentle natural rhythm.