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.
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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