“The sun, red and enormous began to sink into the western sky. And simultaneously the moon began to rise on the other side of the river, in it's own glorious shade of red coming up out of the trees like a rustic fire bird. The sun and the moon seemed to acknowledge each other, and they moved in both apposition and concordance in a breathtaking dance of light across the oaks and the palms. My father watched them, and I thought he would cry again. He had returned to the sea... and his heart was a low country heart.”