It’s mid-January in Myrtle Beach, it’s 75° out, the pollen is already trying to assassinate us, and my new neighborhood apparently comes with free-range geese as part of the HOA package.
Yes, geese. Canadian, at that.
Just casually strolling around the cul-de-sac like they pay property taxes and have appointments to get to.
And listen — these birds have functioning wings. They are fully capable of flight. They were built for migration.
So why do they insist on walking single file across the street like a tiny feathered parade no one applied for?
Every day feels like I’m late for school pickup behind a row of geese who are like:
“We don’t hurry around here, sweetheart. We’re on Goose Time.”
The swagger is unmatched. Geese carry this bizarre corporate confidence, like:
“We own this HOA. You’re merely renting vibes.”
It’s giving mall security energy, but with feathers.
And the Northern kid in me can’t even be mad, because I know these birds. I grew up in Billerica on Nuttings Lake — where the geese roamed freely, the water was questionable, and my mom would hand me a bag of stale carbs and go:
“Go feed the geese. And take those cinnamon raisin bagels nobody likes.”
So there I’d be, eight years old, tossing random pantry items at waterfowl like some kind of lakeside soup kitchen. Bread, cereal, ancient freezer bagels — didn’t matter. They’d inhale it and then chase us across the yard like we owed them rent.
Traumatic? Maybe.
Character building? Absolutely.
Fast forward to now, decades later, and these Myrtle Beach geese are exactly the same level of chaotic — they just refuse to migrate. Instead, they stay here in January, blocking traffic and silently judging everyone with their beady little eyes.
Meanwhile, I’m over here bragging to my Northern friends like:
Good morning!! It’s 75° and sunny — I’m wearing flip-flops and watching a goose HOA board meeting from my kitchen window. Stay warm!! 🥹💋”
But at the same time, I know Southern weather is a pathological liar.
Today:
🌞 Windows open
🥤 Iced coffee (but that’s a year ’round thing)
🦢 Goose power-walk cardio
🌸 Pollen in attack mode
Tomorrow?
☁️ 42°
💨 rain sideways
🤧 seasonal depression
🧥 sweatshirts back in rotation
My seasonal confusion is now layered with:
- allergy warfare
- climate chaos
- goose drama
- and childhood flashbacks of my mom emptying the pantry via bird charity
Speaking of allergy warfare — Natalie has not been feeling great. For days we assumed it was just seasonal allergies (because again… January feels like April), so we finally went to the doctor.
They take one look at her and go:
“It’s a sinus infection.”
I’m sorry… how is that not just allergies with paperwork?
Same symptoms. Same vibe. Same “why does my face hurt” energy.
So now we have medication AND she’s requesting a Neti Pot.
A Neti Pot. Is that even how you spell it?
Has anyone actually used one of those things?? Because the instructions look like:
“Pour warm salt water through your nose until your entire soul exits from your left nostril.”
It feels more like a war crime than a wellness tool. I’m sure people swear by it, but this is a very specific level of adulthood that I was not prepared for.
All of this to say: this is not the winter I grew up with.
This is Spring Break: Suburban Waterfowl + Sinus Edition.
And honestly? I wouldn’t trade it.
My sinuses would.
Natalie’s definitely would.
My Northern friends? They’d trade immediately, they’re just bitter.
Anyway — happy January from climate limbo. If you need me, I’ll be on my porch monitoring pollen counts, googling how to Neti Pot without drowning, and watching the goose parade make their morning commute.
More Myrtle Beach chaos, Northerner trauma, and questionable suburban wildlife stories coming soon.
— Deb