Joggers, Dog Walkers, and a Beachcombing Blogger
Here in Hull at my mother’s house, the landmarks of my life are the pieces of litter I pass on my daily beach walks that have been washed up from winter storms – the plastic dish detergent buoy, a single abandoned Christmas tree, an array of lost and tattered toys, cups, shoes, and gloves.
From Nantasket beach you can see three lighthouses (Graves, Boston, and Minot) and can watch low flying planes navigating in out of Logan airport. At low tide the beach is like a wide open track for joggers, dog walkers, and beachcombers like me.
When I walk I expect to see dogs chasing sticks and joggers plugged in to their ipods. What I don’t expect to see is a 4 foot plastic alligator or hydrangea blossoms blown from nearby yards skipping on the shoreline like tumbleweed. I don’t expect to see so many sad deflated balloons tied to colored ribbons tangled on the beach.
I like the way the finest sand collects like snow drifts. Dunes with a few tufts of sea grass growing in them remind me of a desert. Sunken footsteps look like those of astronauts who have walked on the surface of the moon.
A plastic bag carried by a sea breeze scoots in fits and starts like a sandpiper along the water’s edge. A woman walking her dog pauses. “He likes people,” she says as the dogs sniffs near me and wags his tail. I smile and say hello but don’t stop long enough for petting.
Bored with snapping more photos of unlikely litter, I’m on a new mission, filling my pockets with shells to send to my Asheville potter son Josh. “We need shells for the next firing,” he said when he called, explaining that they use shells as props, to separate pots in a loaded kiln. Shells are mainly calcium with a residue of salt from the sea. When a shell flashes to vapor in the kiln the sodium leaves interesting marks on the pots, my alchemist potter son tells me.
Josh was hoping for scallop shells or something with ridges but all we have in Hull is quahogs, the kind we painted as kids and used for ashtrays when we left home to get our own apartments. There is also an endless supply of common mussels in shades of dark blue-purple, but having grown up with seeing them constantly they hardly register now and I rarely include them in my collections. Today, I stuff a few in my pocket. I wonder what kind of vapor flash a wood fired purple mussel shell will make.
Comments
Using shells to create a vapor flash on fired pots is a new one on me! Let us know the results, O.K.? When you mentioned quahogs, it brought back the vivid memory of an exchange with my cousin's wife, (they live in Chatham, out on the Cape). I mis-pronounced the word as quay-hog and she stared at me as if I had committed a horrible, horrible act. The proper pronunciation, she archly informed me, was "ko-hog". I've never forgotten!
Posted by: Jeff | March 14, 2009 11:24 PM
Did she tell you how to pronounce a bulkie roll? If you have a good thick Boston accent it might sound like "bookee." The term maybe be unique to Boston and is like a kaiser bun.
I packed up some shells to mail to Josh today.
Posted by: colleen | March 14, 2009 11:30 PM
very interesting. hope you will post some photos of the pots he gets using the shells.
Posted by: sky | March 15, 2009 1:43 AM
The landscape is beautiful. The litter on beaches breaks my heart. I have the habit of walking with a trash bag and picking it up. I suppose it will only be ferried out a few miles once again to wash back to shore. Or not (that is my hope).
Posted by: SandyCarlson | March 15, 2009 7:52 AM
Its a beautiful area that you've been walking through and I like the scale without many people around. I almost feel like I've just visited. And I'm saying "Hi" today via NetChick's!
Posted by: rashbre | March 15, 2009 9:51 AM
The photos are just stunning. So lovely.
Posted by: Musing | March 15, 2009 3:43 PM
What a fascinating bit of chemistry. Do show some sample marks made by shells-vaporizing when you can...
Posted by: Pearl | March 15, 2009 6:06 PM
I very much like the feel of northern beaches...sorry about all the litter though...
Posted by: june | March 15, 2009 6:30 PM
What about grinders and cahn? I had lunch at a restaurant in the Keys and the waiter was from Boston. It took repeated attempts on my part to finally understand that he was speaking of corn. He was not a happy camper, either!! He must have thought I was the proverbial provincial rube, because I simply could not understand what he was saying!
Posted by: Jeff | March 15, 2009 8:22 PM
Hello from my west coast beach, Kitsilano, to yours on the east coast. Love your dunes with sea grass. Netchick sent me.
Posted by: 8chocolate | March 15, 2009 9:30 PM
It's more like subs and "cawn."
Posted by: colleen | March 15, 2009 9:33 PM
It's sad that our world has become so trashed that things wash up on shore so often. However, on rare occasion, you can actually come across some very interesting things that have washed up.
Posted by: Thomas | March 15, 2009 11:18 PM
I didn't know about the shells either! I always gather them when we go to the beach. Maybe I can give some to you to give to Josh the next time I'm through your area. How far is Floyd from Wytheville?
Posted by: kenju | March 15, 2009 11:48 PM
Hubby always collects the trash on our beach walks and makes me wish we had brought a plastic bag by the time his pockets and hands are full and he wants me to start gathering stuff.
Posted by: Tabor | March 16, 2009 6:38 AM
I love the last picture. That one could be framed. xo
Posted by: Sherry | March 16, 2009 7:24 AM
I love the last photo. Very pretty. And the pink couple is cute. The first bunch look like they could be vampires if the sun were not out!
Posted by: Deana | March 16, 2009 10:23 AM
Ma will remember when I rushed out in her car to take that shot. It was dark just a few minutes later.
Posted by: colleen | March 17, 2009 1:35 PM