Trawling the Dregs

I noticed along the line from last night’s high tide a distinct gathering of sea debris. I like to trawl along the craggy line looking for treasures. Sometimes I see a random cig butt or plastic cap but mostly I see the bits of seaweed, twigs and a vast array of seashells. The shells range in shape and size. Some appear whole and the rest are pieces-parts. I consider myself an experienced collector with a keen eye for selecting the finest of the available pickings on any given day at the beach. Realize this makes the process subjective to mood, season and any number of other outside circumstances but relatively still 'a day at the beach', in any opinion is better than a day not at the beach.
As far as my knowledge of sea life genus and species identities, I boldly admit I have close to zero. I know only a few of the common names and recall absolutely none of the proper scientific labels. But I know what I like. I can describe my favorite varieties in detail to illustrate why they bring me such joy.
I have an affection for the shallow and fragile, simple shell layers that glisten and shine like glass. They flake off the insides of the ever common oyster shells, I think. These flakes or lightweight shiny sparklers are a dull gray, almost transparent when wet but shine like iridescent pearls once dried by the sun. They're low on depth and come from modest means, kinda like the clueless white trash of the shell world. The most fragile of my trove, these pretties are easily crushed or chipped by contact with heftier varieties or if held too tightly, given too much pressure. Like rose petals, they are easily bruised or ruined unless handled properly. None-the-less, I think these simple ones are still gorgeous and necessary to my collection.
Probably my most favorite shells, though, are the twisted and broken ones. The remains of hermit crab homes that have suffered collision, impact, or tumult and have crumbled to opened up and reveal the inner sanctum. Inside they display a myriad of colors and you can see their most striking beauty is deep within. I am drawn to the curly lines and grace of their coils. They offer a contrast to all the other mytiloid or bivalve shells resting haphazardly together. I imagine these pieces as having had a lot of living before I found them. Their glory days of unintentional perfection behind them these experienced stunners are maps of utter tragedy or other crushing blows which turned them into one of the abundant damaged ones to be seen strewn about everywhere. They're overlooked, forgotten, discarded, passed up, thrown back and undervalued by most shell seekers. I am looking for them. I appreciate their history and mystery. They almost have a wisdom to them and I appreciate their longevity and survival. These twisted and broken losers in my mind have the most to offer.

I also like to stand and stare into the dregs line long enough to see the minuscule sweeties mixed among the sand grains. Barely big enough to notice at first glance; the teeniest ones mirror their larger counterparts on a scale meant for the miniature world of fairies. I have a special selection of these in a dedicated dish beside my bed far away from this place. The tiny trove version allows the occasional mind escape I need to endure my long distance love with the shore. Sometimes we can gain the most from the smallest of things.
And of course, who doesn't like the perfect, unbroken ones? Most common is the tendency toward the quest for ones without mars or chips since their beauty is obvious and they are accepted as "rare". So, I still concede to the loveliness of the pristine as marvels of escaped tragedy, near miss and damage.  Yet, as my interest moves organically I still find myself more drawn to the storied and seasoned ones out there.
Additionally, I am drawn to the textured bits, craggy edges, broken sharp but blunted by tumbled surf until smooth and shaped by time thus creating unique, quizzical visually interesting pieces. I am stimulated by the distinct patterns and shapes within the biological designs. Sand dollars contain this quality in spades. The porous nature of their delicate chalky composition makes for gorgeous layers and cross cuts once the giant saucer sized remains are broken and divided into segments. Finding a lone "angel" from the center interior is always a serendipitous treat. These are actually the vertebrae of the creature, as I understand it but I've always thought of them as "angels" because they look like they have wings. The distinctive "V" shape provides the contrasting element for finding them among the throngs. I love the thrill of a clandestine spotting of these super rare keepers. Today, the one I found sat perched on a crest of sand all by its lonesome as if it was waiting to be found.
I almost forgot to mention the driftwood, a must-have for a truly well rounded collection. I prefer small pieces but that is only because I am limited on the space in which to keep and display my finds. I can appreciate any sized pieces of these water logged, sand sculpted and smoothed masterpieces. I merely limit myself to collecting token gems. I have been bequeathed several lovely specimens that belonged to mother. She enjoyed flower arranging as an artform. Her creations with driftwood were award winning and I have the pieces she kept to use over and over in those displays. I enjoy imagining the journey each one must have endured to arrive at the destination.  How many shores did they spend time bobbing in the shallows or marooned in the sun before being swept out once again to travel the seas by current, wind or wave? I like the color striations and the genuine honesty of their state of being. These feel like the real journeymen of my beach findings.  At least in terms of potential distance from creation to discovery. I love to acquire a random twisted twig, chock full of authenticity and earthiness that only a drifter could embody.
I musr confess I still haven't been able to resist an unbroken whole sand dollar throughout all my time as a collector. When it comes to fragile, intricate perfection and delicacy, it doesn't get more precious than these, and the smaller, the better. Like the sea petals, the tiny ones are extremely fragile and need special care. The fact that they comprise the remains of an entire organism intrigues me. The miniscule scale intrigues me to my delight. They are complicated and textured inside and out. I give myself the responsiblity with a mind that only I can appreciate and care for them as they deserve, so I adopt them into my safe keeping.
I guess it's fair to say I like my shells like I like my people. For me, it isn't all about the pristine appearance, smooth, intact, unbroken or unmarred surfaces that appeals to my desire. I am looking for authentic traits showing signs of knowing, understanding, history, depth, truth, acceptance and wisdom. I find the longer I spend, the lengths I endure have my minds eye searching for the storied, character filled, experts of things to teach me from their depths and far corners and crooks of remembering. I continue as if a line were forming just to be counted among the lucky few.  In any case, I'll make invitation. Come all ye twisted and broken, textured, complicated, drifty and flaky masses, my elite affection awaits thee all.

xo
Seasoned local with tourist sunburn