As you read this (always assuming!), the Big Guy and I are home again. But as this is posted, we’re in the Olympic Peninsula in Washington State, searching out the shy agate and the wily sand dollar.
This sand dollar, however, is from a beach in South Carolina.
But wherever I find then, there isn’t anything much finer than that moment of discovery.
Imperfect specimen; perfect moment.
Hope you find lots of agate to go with your sand dollar finds.
Do you cut and polish the agate?
Jim – All I ever find are wee bits of agate – nothing that could be polished. Right now we’re in steady rain, so beach time might be limited.
Really like these objects in situ. š
Barbara – I’ll keep that in mind. I think it’s a bit like the advice on photographing birds and other people: Don’t get just the bird, get its situ, too.
Absolutely beautiful picture Isabel!
I don’t know how you’re so good at finding sand dollars š
Kate
Kate – Thanks! It’s about picking the right beaches.
Sand dollars are the best proof we have that God anticipated and approves of tourism and beach combing.
Laurna – Sand dollars and, perhaps, agates. It is a wonder-ful world, isn’t it?
It seems so today: Alex moved his right arm. Twice.
Laurna – That is great news. I’m so sorry he’s had a stroke, but delighted he’s showing signs of recovery.
Last night I followed your link to your 2011 Gift from the Sea, an exquisitely beautiful essay to rival Anne Morrow Lindbergh’s similarly named, slim collection of meditations on life through sea shells. What is it about the careful delineation of rational thought shone upon feelings that soothes the tumult of a fellow soul, as though perceptual nerve fibre by fibre the grief of the world’s woes can be examined through the beauty and harmony of Creation and laid to rest? I will take some shells to Alex.
Laurna – Thank you for your kind words. That’s one of my favourite essays (and one of my favourite activities). Maybe Alex would like some nice rocks, too.