Detritus

I have been rising early and walking before the sunrise.  I love the lowtide walks best, but every one has been interesting.  I usually head south.  It amazes me that the rakers are out before me, and have completed large swaths in front of the condos and resorts, before there is even a hint of light. I am not always the earliest.
Since my shoreline travels began, decades past, I have been a picker-upper of beach stuff.  I have hauled home driftwood, half-oars, knotted rope, long stones, and other salt water worn pieces of ocean debris that seem foreign to a contintenal woman, like me. These become my souvenirs.  Oh, I might buy a t-towel or nail brush, or another utilitarian item I can use at home, and think of my travels.  But no, a shopper, I am not.
I have a modest collection of shoreglass at home. I seek blues and find greens, bending into forward fold to pocket any that I see.  Here, there are blues! But they are opaque.  They ARE glass, not ceramic, but I do not know what they once were.  There are lines etched and sometimes perceptible dots of white within.  I wonder if they were glass tiles.  I also pick up shells of tiny beauty.  Not all will leave with me.  It is a tender process of elimination.

And surprise!  What other reoccuring item of wonder has interrupted my sand walk each morning?  Yup.  Sunglasses!  Four so far.  All have been in the sea, that is most certain, because I have had to soak and brush the sand free from the hinges and lens edges.  No.  I will not be bringing these home.  Well, maybe the light grey frames.  And maybe the aviators, for Char, but they need a nose pad.  Any takers? And oh yes.  We have here a perfectly good dog collar, too big for Maestro, but it will fit my Yoga mat.
~~n Post#16 Day11/75