beachcomber

Like many people who are excited by moving to the coast, I have become an enthusiastic beachcomber.

I walk about with bulging pockets, arms laden with curious objects . . .

(no, dogs, this precious “stick” is not for you!)

on one day after a storm, I returned home with a sunbleached buoy, beached, torn from some distant mooring.

Another walk might yield a sea-rounded, broken house-brick (which I find very pleasing for edging in the garden) or an urchin treasure, only slightly smashed.

Sometimes I find tiny bits of pottery

or small objects, whose origins and composition remain a mystery

is it made of bone, or is it ceramic? Are those marks natural or the work of someone’s hands?

It’s fair to say, though, that the majority of my beachcombing is pebble focused.

. . . and that I have become more than a little pebble-obsessed.

At one point, during the rapid expansion of my “collection” in the weeks shortly after moving here, Tom made the foolish suggestion that I limit myself to one pebble per day. Erm . . .

. . . but what would be the point of that . . .

. . .on a walk when two equally arresting but completely different specimens might well catch the eye?

I find I that I enjoy different pebbles for different reasons . . .

. . . but that each one is its own kind of meditation, like a kōan.

. . .together, they have begun to organise themselves into taxonomies . . .

. . . like all collections do . . .

. . . and I enjoy this process too.

I also enjoy Tom’s photographs of my pebble collection (he’s now on board with its aesthetic, and indeed has returned home with many choice specimens himself)

I thought you might enjoy these photographs, and some pebble related musings too.

I’ll share them here, as they occur to me, in coming weeks.