No shard of tumbled glass has been safe from my compulsive foraging. Late in the afternoon, when the tide is going out in Searsport, I drag Hank (two searchers = twice as much sea glass!) to our secret sea glass cove to patiently comb every inch. We stay until our shadows stretch long across the sand, our only companion a lone osprey watching us from the pine tree above.
Anything swept ashore is fair game for my current passion. This week's haul includes: 1 clam fork, 1 rusty tractor part, 1 leather sole from a man's shoe, 1 set of pitchfork tines (also rusty)...and a whole two-gallon bucket of sea glass!
When we get home, I'll display my treasures in a big jar I've been saving and place it on my craft room shelf...next to the jars representing previous infatuations...my collections of old keys, buttons, scrabble tiles, beads, postcards, clothespins, tie clips, miniatures, wooden spools, belt buckles, cancelled stamps, magnets, children's blocks, and, of course, sand dollars.
|See what I mean???|
Luckily, my obsession du jour never lasts too long and then, before I become totally crazed, I'm on to something else. For now though, since it's almost low tide, I'm off to the beach...