Beach Trees. Those are the words my sister and I would call out from the back seat on every beach trip when we saw them lining the median of the section of US 331 that runs through Florala. Incessantly. Excitedly! And I’m sure to the annoyance of my parents, because my now-4-year-old does the same. Every time we get closer to the little town on the Florida-Alabama line, he reminds me, “When I see a palm tree I’m going to yell out BEACH TREE!” I let out a mother’s sigh, but my 6-year-old heart smiles and remembers: we are almost there.

I knew they were special, even as a preschooler. It should be no surprise that most of my favorite moments took place near a palm tree. My husband used to joke that they were the reason he won me over. Something about palm trees making p- … well, I can’t repeat that here. Let’s’ just say that I’ve seen more than a few relationships blossom under swishing fronds.

Our’s did. And was finally cemented by a quick ceremony and dozen signatures under several swaying high above.