As a child, I grew up inland. A day trip to the seaside was a rare treat for the school holidays. I have the usual memories of building sandcastles on the beach, paddling in the shallow waves lapping on the seashore, watching them froth a little as they broke on the beach, and the feel of the sand, squidgy between my toes. Then the real nuisance of getting the sand off your feet at home time, never fully able to remove ALL the sand until you had a bath at home. I was never a collector though. I didn't feel the urge to pick up seashells or stones, or go looking for creatures in rock-pools with a little net and bucket.
My son however, will have fond memories of visiting the seashore with his Nanny when Mummy was at work. Walking along the beach and collecting the odd shell or pebble that took his fancy. Finding fascination in the patterns of the sand, or making new friends with dog walkers and their funny and faithful pets. He even became adopted by a Canadian Goose whilst visiting Fairhaven Lake (next to the seashore at Lytham) who would shoo away other geese, ducks, seagulls and pigeons who came too close to him. It even tried to scare my Mum away when she tried to pick him up to put him back in his car seat at home time! When that didn't work, the goose lay her beak on the ledge of the car window, looking wistfully at my little lad before they set off home. The seashore is a special place indeed for making memories.
Not only for making memories though. My Mum's next door neighbor frequently goes down to the beach and scours the shoreline for flotsam. Any driftwood etc., is collected up and brought home to be made into artwork. You can see some of his work here: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Set-a-drift-art-work/926340624073525?fref=pb&hc_location=profile_browser . Contact him through this Facebook page if you should wish to commision a piece or purchase any of his work.
Seashore:
The meeting place
'twixt land and sea.
One holds steady,
staunch,
solid,
while the other
massages,
caresses,
gives and takes away.
Occasional gifts
washed ashore
sunbleached and worn.
Who knows how long
these drifters have been
riding on the backs
of foaming white horses?
Ancient wood and rope
from ships wrecked
by angry
tempestuous
storms.
The flotsam
an offering
to the Magpie
with a creative mind.
Thanks for reading. ;-) x
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