Vanishing Species

Walking early down by the ocean last week, a day or two before the cold front blew in, there was a vague sense that something was missing.

Here was the sea, and the sky, and the ascending sun. There in its pale light were the gulls, screaming above the water, and here, slowly following, came a lone surfcaster in a truck. There the waves had thrown up a fine piece of driftwood, half-buried already while it waited to be found, and there was the wrack line, full of foam, pebbles, seaweed, and tiny marine creatures. A world of muted whites, browns, and vaporous greens, like cloudy beach glass. Beach glass! That was it. There is hardly any of it to be found anymore.

Better polish up those old spaghetti-holders full of colorful beach glass. They'll be valuable antiques before you can say "plastic."