O to the C

To be honest, there are days I wish I had fallen madly in creative love with gemstones or beads or paper clips. Something with the promise of uniformity, relatedness or the availability to be ordered up in perfect sets of two. Seaglass comes to you randomly and utterly without organization. The protracted process of getting seaglass readied for jewelry is washing, then wrangling imperfects, then sorting by color on a big covered table.

Spread out like a rainy day game, anyone passing by is invited, ne encouraged, to make observations and arrange the seaglass pieces. So as to pique interest and not overwhelm visitors unaccustomed to the ritual, I might purposely select less abundant secondary colors; “funny blueish-greens” or “not quite whites”. Plastic bins once containing pre-washed spinach now elevated to holding seaglass are hauled down from the shelf and dumped on a white towel. Good light is crucial, but sometimes a special calibration of coffee and rum can aid color perception and lend a festive air to the proceedings.

Winter-escapees visiting us during high season sometimes develop a fixation and keep sorting well after the sun has begun to set, secretly guaranteeing themselves return use of the guest room. If they ask whether obsessive compulsive disorder is contagious, I just smile and spill out another container of seaglass.

“More ice in your drink?” I ask.


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Tidings

I love the hunt and gather side of making seaglass jewelry. It is contemplative and meandering. I often come up with my best design ideas while wandering around the tidal pools; nudging shells aside while keeping a watchful eye for sea urchin spikes. I never really thought of seaglass gathering to be a group activity.

Until Lily.

Friendly, loyal, super cute and a lover of shallow water. She is our newly adopted “sato” (or street-dog) and the beach is her true home. Though she gets a run of some miles every morning, she will not abide being left behind if there is an excursion to be had. Precious time spent finding and fixing small fencing gaps proves utterly futile. She can hear the gate creaking shut from across the property. Next thing you know -- you’ve got company. We often compete to get to the same sand puddle first. Guess who always wins?

The approach of Christmas has me feeling indebted for our health and happiness. I am especially grateful for simple delights. My daughter’s silly giggle, the twinkle of holiday lights, walks on the beach and a new furry friend to share it with.

I wish laughter, warmth and light to all.


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