Seashells

I am the woman at the beach who you see with a straw hat on her head, a sunburnt back, a bucket and shovel in her hand, stooped over, eyes to the sand, scouring the beach, tidepools and rock jetties for shells. I have quite a collection at home, some of the prettiest from family vacations to Marco Island and Sanibel Island, both on the Gulf of Florida. I could spend the rest of my life doing this every day. Sometimes I'll be on all fours for hours at a time (hence the fried back) searching for the smallest of seashells. Other times it's a long swim out to a sandbar where I'll move slowly in knee-deep water, using my shuffling feet like a metal detector looking for treasure. And the day's bounty is prettier than any gold coin or gleaming jewel.

I am starting on a new project, making shell crosses (will post completed ones soon). With Easter just around the corner, I really wanted to work on something that would make me contemplate this Holy time. I hated to dig into my own sea collection — everything has such memories — so I did order from U.S. Shell. Here is the first shipment, having arrived yesterday. Weekend, here I come!