On Vacation

Good friend Larry surf fishing at Holden Beach, North Carolina
1985, taken with my Yashica FX-2 35mm

We'll be at North Topsail Beach, North Carolina until June 21st.
Enjoy this fun little beach poem I found on the Internet.

Beach Glass
Amy Clampitt

While you walk the water's edge,
turning over concepts
I can't envision, the honking buoy
serves notice that at any time
the wind may change,
the reef-bell clatters
its treble monotone, deaf as Cassandra
to any note but warning. The ocean,
cumbered by no business more urgent
than keeping open old accounts
that never balanced,
goes on shuffling its millenniums
of quartz, granite, and basalt.
It behaves
toward the permutations of novelty—
driftwood and shipwreck, last night's
beer cans, spilt oil, the coughed-up
residue of plastic—with random
impartiality, playing catch or tag
ot touch-last like a terrier,
turning the same thing over and over,
over and over. For the ocean, nothing
is beneath consideration.
The houses
of so many mussels and periwinkles
have been abandoned here, it's hopeless
to know which to salvage. Instead
I keep a lookout for beach glass—
amber of Budweiser, chrysoprase
of Almadén and Gallo, lapis
by way of (no getting around it,
I'm afraid) Phillips'
Milk of Magnesia, with now and then a rare
translucent turquoise or blurred amethyst
of no known origin.
The process
goes on forever: they came from sand,
they go back to gravel,
along with treasuries
of Murano, the buttressed
astonishments of Chartres,
which even now are readying
for being turned over and over as gravely
and gradually as an intellect
engaged in the hazardous
redefinition of structures
no one has yet looked at.

I love walking on the beach in the early, early morning and late, late afternoon looking for beach glass, seashells, driftwood and spying pieces of things I can't identify. I love standing at the edge of the ocean, waves foaming around my toes reclaiming the sand beneath. I love closing my eyes and hearing the sound of gulls and grackles interspersed with the booming waves and laughter of children. I love watching the shrimp boats gently rocking, rows of nets on either side gathering treasures. I love the endless horizon and the storms that blow strong from the ocean. I love looking at the stars at night as effervescent ocean waves lick the sand.

I hate men and women who plunder and ruin our seashores and wetlands and precious wildlife out of ignorance and greed. Where do they vacation, do you suppose? Do they park their yachts beside the oil derricks in the ocean and dive into the waters from those great iron structures? Mind, I'm all about commerce and making a living, but not at the expense of our planet. Think, people, think. This is our Only and Forever Earth. Take care of her. This is my prayer for the Gulf of Mexico, its boundaries and shorelines and its residents, both wild and domestic.

Rant over. I'm off to pack for the trip. Take care of yourselves.