I’ve always been afraid of sneaker waves, tsunamis, and King Tides. Our ocean is not the ocean of the Caribbean. Ours is a cold, windy, usually bringing in fog, kind of ocean.
Man cannot survive over 15 minutes without wet suits. Almost every year the boats go out, and may not all come back.
We have a long walk of tears in our town down at the Bayfront. That is the downside.
The wonders and magic our ocean beaches pull in are sometimes due to the horrors of the past. But in of themselves, they have become the diamonds created from coal.
We have gorgeous agates, rocks with unique fossils in them, beautiful shells, treasures, buoys. And, of course, Magnificent specimens of driftwood, making dreams of lands far away, so long ago…
People take it and make all kinds of creative sculptures, kids make art projects from it. And that’s a wonderful thing.
But how many people think about where it originated after being cut down? How many miles has it seen, time it has spent floating around the ocean? This is the point where stories are made, unique stories, from beginning to end of a piece of wood.
With love, dreams of lands far away, and the sea…
Lynda Van Dyke