We finally got around to cleaning and sorting our shells from vacation. F divided them up among her classmates and teacher, and then wrote their first initial on some card stock we had. She signed each one on the back with an F, and we wrapped them up with brown twine.
We didn’t do a ton of shelling this trip, but we did find some pretty cool ones. I have a sort of sixth sense about shells when I’m walking the beach. I might set out for a serious walk (with tennis shoes instead of bare feet), but I still can spot a good one in a sea of them, even at five mph. I finish the walk with two fists full. I never remember to take a bag with me.
Each trip to the beach adds another layer of shells into a few glass vessels we have around the house. I love how the colors fade a bit, away from the surf – little pieces of the sea from years past, and memories of pink cheeked babies in the sand.
