In every walk with nature one receives far more than he seeks - John Muir

As a little girl I remember my Dad taking us to the Oregon Coast.  The beaches of the Pacific are long and wide, the rocks being pummeled for ages to create these stretches of soft sand. The surf is loud, massive and rough much of the year.  The water icy and often a soft grey from the churning waves. We would walk the long stretches of beaches and of course do what all children do, look for and collect shells.  The larger and more perfect the better.

Now, I find I am drawn to small, imperfect shells that I find on our Chocolate Hole beach and on nearby Hart Bay.  They've been crushed against the rocks and surf but tumbled to soften out the edges. What I love about the broken ones, is the intricacy that you get a glimpse of on the inside, the subtle shades of color swirling around the interior.  The shapes are many and varied and lovely to touch and look at.

As a child we would always carry a bucket or plastic cup or something to carry these treasures. Or if all else, once our pockets and hands were filled, find the nearest adult and beg them to carry our seaside treasures so that we could continue collecting and hording. Once they were home, they would be added to our dusty shell collection, sadly, rarely to be looked at again. 

I still love to look for shells with wild thoughts of how I could possibly use them, but usually, I hold them in my hand a moment to admire, maybe wear a broken but beautiful one on a necklace for a week or two, and then return it to the beach. 

The beaches of North Shore are fairly sparse of shells, but there are a few beaches on the south side, primarily, Chocolate Hole and Hart Bay where you can find some lovely shells both large and small.  But if you go, consider just enjoying the varieties, colors and textures, holding them in your hand for a moment and then leaving them for someone else to enjoy. 

C