August 26, 2010
With the Gulf Oil Spill chill hovering over all of us still and the end of summer nearing, I can't help but be a little nostalgic for those hot gritty sunburn kind of beach trips of yore. Adults and kids just all seem to have the perfect time. It didn't seem to matter if we went to my Great Uncle's cabin on very polluted Lake Erie ('60's) or the Atlantic coast in North Carolina or Florida either. We all loved to beachcomb.
Each treasure one of us found, whether sea glass, shell or something we just thought was pretty or unusual, we stuffed into the pocket of our swimsuit coverup to be oohed and awed over later. Perhaps we'd even trade! On we went barely looking up until a Mom would yell out for us to turn around or we'd glance over and find we didn't recognize the house or motel and know we'd gone maybe a little too far.
Beachcomber's Talisman Pendant or Brooch
(in my own collection)
If you're a born beachcomber, as everyone in our family is, you never outgrow it. I still stuff my pockets with flotsam and bring it home to sit on the window sill. To glance at them is to remember not only the trip in which they were gathered, but all the other sandy strolls made with my family through the years.
Two years ago I met my Dad on the Outer Banks of North Carolina and although he didn't stuff any treasures in his pocket, he brought every one he found to me. The gesture touched my heart for so many reasons. After that trip my husband no longer asks me why I'm picking up more stuff for a shelf.
“It’s hard for me to put into words why I like the beach so much. Everything about it is renewing for me, almost like therapy...Beach Therapy.” - Amy Dykens