I will go to the beach until I can no longer go to the beach.
Wind, rain, cold – they don’t stop me. Only when the snow covers the ground for the winter and makes climbing down to my favourite beach treacherous do I stop for the season.
On this bright, crisp, sunny day I dressed in layers and headed out. I had checked the tide times, packed my bucket and my camera, and carried a snack in case I got hungry. This time, I even remembered to pack tissue – if anything can send me home early, it’s that or the lack of a bathroom.
I expected to be alone on this chilly day, but when I arrived, a couple was already there. With a bucket. A large bucket.
My heart sank.
No doubt they were searching for sea glass.
I took a breath and went down anyway, hoping they hadn’t cleaned it out. It took seconds to realize they were serious sea glass hunters, however. The tracks always tell: footprints woven up and down the shoreline showed they had covered every inch.
Sighing, I decided to make the best of it. I had my camera, after all, and it was a beautiful day for a walk.
I didn’t find much sea glass.
What I did find was a tiny plastic cactus, swept up the beach by the tide. I couldn’t resist a few shots of it standing on the sand, the irony of a cactus seaside not lost on me.
The cactus stands on my kitchen windowsill, now. A reminder that sometimes things don’t go as planned, but if I keep my eyes open, I might find a fun little unexpected detail.