Found on the Beach was inspired by a lifetime of exploring that magical transition zone where water meets land. 

The next transition, from where I always stand, kneel or crawl, is unreachably far away, where the sky meets the water. While the water is beautiful to look at and mesmerizing at times, it is the stone underfoot that you can pick up,  hold in your hand and put into your pocket.

Of course, the magical zone manifests more than stones. Every day, a walk along the shore line exposes new treasures and shiny baubbles, textures and trinkets.

Each item has taken on a new life in this place. A nail or bottle is no longer something man made. The water’s interaction with the land has changed the object into something often unrecognizable.

The stone, once a chip or crystal, part of some bigger rock, has been caressed to the point that it is almost transparent, smoothed to the point that “rock”, with all of its rough connotations, just doesn’t apply.

I feel some guilt, picking up a piece of shell and putting it in my pocket. I know I have interrupted a pattern. I have changed its destiny to make it a star in my own small dramas. It was meant to be part of the beach, another grain of sand that will rub up against the next rock or shell, replacing itself as it gets smaller. 

Maybe, one day, I will plan a visit to the beach in reverse. I will go to my shelves and drawers, fill my pockets with stones and bits, and scatter them into the incoming tide.