Seaweed and Seagull Poop

Full moon, negative tide, seemed like a good day to go to Davenport Beach in search of Lundberg seaglass. Our first clue that it was not was not was when we saw almost no beachcombers there, as opposed to the last two or three times when the beach was packed with serious shovelers of sand and pebbles. We paced up and down, poked and prodded, waded, froze our toes, but almost nothing had washed up on the beach but seaweed and seagull poop. How disappointing!

When did going to the beach become measured by how much debris (for that's what sand, seashells, seaglass, driftwood, etc. really are, aren't they?) we transported home? I already have so much stuff I am planning to set up a beachlike corner of my backyard. I have makings for earrings, necklaces, and windowsill decor galore! Perhaps it's being from Toledo, so far from the sea, that makes it so hard to believe the ocean will still be there, with or without beachcombings, next week, next month. Perhaps it's recognizing that nothing I can craft, paint, write is as beautiful as the real thing that makes me want to appreciate every little shard of coral and rounded rock. Perhaps it's the same impulse I had as a kid, always walking with my head down, looking for lost coins and marbles on the playground, hunting for bottlecaps at the picnic grounds, picking neighbors flowers that dared poke across their back fences.   

Still, we lingered on the sand. The air was so fresh, the sky so blue except for puffy little clouds, the sea was deep blue and cloudy brown and frothy white. A flight of pelicans flew directly overhead -- we could see the color of the bottoms of their breasts and wings. Joey (the dog) was in ecstasy. I picked up a bagful of otther people's trash, candy wrappers, yes, bottlecaps, and cigarette butts -- left only footprints. I took a few pictures. It was a great day!