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By Erin Barrette Goodman
It
started innocently enough. My friend, an artist who creates jewelry
with rocks
and sea glass, invited me and my family to go beach-combing with her
and her
family.
Hiking
down to the shore and avoiding mud puddles (or if you are under three,
seeking
out mud puddles) was quite an expedition. But the real adventure lay
ahead as
we slipped (literally – it really was very muddy) off the path and onto
the rocky
beach.
While
our husbands kept an eye on our kids, we closed in on a perfect spot
and began
treasure hunting.
It
started kind of slow. As little flecks of blue or green glass caught my
eye I happily
uncovered them and squirreled them away in my pocket.
For
a
while I tried to get my three-year-old interested showing her the
beautiful
treasures I was unearthing and encouraging her to do the same.
But
she
was much more interested in climbing the small bluffs nearby and
playing with
her friend, which turned out to be a good thing because I soon
discovered that
beach-combing is an all-consuming activity for me.
I
had a
blast for the next 10 (or was it 20? or 30?) minutes until the kids
started
getting bored and venturing too far away and we realized that it was
getting
close to nap time.
We
decided it was time to head out, but much like blueberry picking in
July, saying
we were leaving and actually making forward motion towards the exit
were two
very distinct things.
As
I
slowly meandered back towards the path, I kept my eyes peeled, knowing
there had
to be at least one more treasure waiting for me to discover.
Later,
as we drove home, I ran my fingers over the smooth edges of the glass
in my
pocket and eagerly anticipated the fun I would have inventorying and
inspecting
my collection.
Prior
to this visit to the beach, I had collected a few pieces of sea glass
and a
couple of interesting rocks here or there, but it was during this
Sunday
afternoon expedition that I was bitten by the beachcombing bug!
The
windowsill above my kitchen sink has turned into an alter of sorts with
my
rapidly growing collection of rocks, shells, driftwood and glass
carefully laid
out to greet me each morning.
Every
small
pocket of free time that I can find (admittedly not much with two young
children) is an opportunity to escape to the beach for more
treasure-hunting.
A
solo trip
to the grocery store on a Sunday afternoon or to pick up my children
from my
parents’ house is made via the shore (yes, dear family members that is
why I am
always late).
As
I
explore, I play mental games trying to see if my mood and attitude can
affect
the number and the quality of the pieces that I find and dream about
other
beaches that I may someday explore.
My
friend joked with me that she’s a little jealous by how lucky I am with
my
finds, perhaps slightly regretting that she introduced me to her
favorite sea
glass gathering spot.
But,
luckily for her, my new found passion has not extended into
jewelry-making and
I am happy to let her peruse my collection and help herself to anything
that
she would like for her work.
For
me
the joy is simply in the possibilities, the excitement of discovery,
and the short
mental retreat from daily life.
One
day
last week I brought my daughter, Lily, along with me to the shore.
She
was
slightly more interested in my activities this time, as it was just the
two of
us and I managed to be a little less obsessive than I was during our
first
visit, but after a short time she made it known that she was officially
bored and
wanted to leave.
Reversing
our roles briefly, I pleaded for just a few more minutes to play and
hurried to
gather as many treasures as I could.
As
we
followed the trail back up to our car, it was my turn to wait while she
explored one of her passions – mud puddles!
I
was
so tempted to hurry her along; after all I had what I needed – a pocket
filled
with glass, shells and rocks that I couldn’t wait to examine.
But
as
I watched her savor every inch of the sticky mud, drawing in it with a
stick
and making footprints, I realized it was her turn to retreat into the
beauty
and endless possibilities of the natural world.
I
used
the time to savor the view of the ocean, realizing how little I
actually look
up when I’m beachcombing, and jingled the contents of my pocket,
feeling quite satisfied
with our visit.
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