After a long rainy winter here, summer is finally arriving, and yesterday----with its temperatures in the low sixties, sunshine, and little wind----Kipper and I heard the siren call of Pebble Beach, where he enjoys the feel of warm sand and rocks on his rough pugs, and I get on my hands and knees, sometimes stretching out on my stomach across the rocks (lolling about, I think, just like the sea lions I can hear barking in the distance), to hum, whistle, and sing to them, as I sift and sort, feeling myself at points to be soaring above them, a sharp-eyed bird, at other times as if I am one of the rocks myself, asking to be singled out for my light, and to join with other agates.
Yes. All that and more goes through this playful brain.
And then I recognize the Collector, the One Who Never Has Enough.
And I say to the rocks, "One day, I will release you all back to the ocean. . . even the river rocks I brought from Louisiana."
Because this has been one of my common themes----going to the beach for agates----I thought I'd document it for you, my friends.
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| At the top of the stairs, we've parked our car, and Kipper impatiently tugs at the leash. |
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| One more set of steps. . . (which, when we return, I take two at a time) |
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| At the bottom, we survey the scene. Tide's out. |
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| What a day. |
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| We walk and look. . . Sometimes larger agates show themselves here. |
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| But we like to relax without worrying about the ocean catching us, so we go nearer the cliff to look. |
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| Kipper's smiling. . . |
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My hand's there to show the relative size of the agates here. Can you see their appeal? Yet it's not merely their clarity; agates have lovely lines and oftentimes EYES in them, or even entire COSMOS---swirls and lovely universes.
What stories we can make up to justify our attachments! ;-) |
