The Wrack Line

I open my eyes and I'm on a stretch of empty beach; it's cool, the waves are small, but incessant, the fog has lifted enough so I can see the horizon. It's not a day that anyone typically thinks of when they imagine a day at the beach, but it's my kind of day. The cool, damp air sharpens the salty smell of the sea and instead of dancing around on hot sand, I can stand and watch the waves' foam cover my feet, retreat, and leave puddles as I step ahead. And I can explore the 'wrack line' alone.

I read about the wrack line in an article written by a woman who collects sea beans (sea beans, Mary's beans, sea hearts-- subjects for a future blog!). I've never heard of the wrack line...where the tide deposits kelp, driftwood, a stray flip-flop, plastic bottles....but I've walked it many times. When I looked up 'wrack' in my dictionary, sure enough it's defined as marine vegetation, kelp, something driven by the sea. At high tide, the sea leaves its flotsam and jetsam on the wrack line for me to explore. Who knows what treasures I might find?

Walking the jagged edge between high and low tide, my senses are overwhelmed by the sea. Here, mixed with the smell of drying kelp, the fragrance of the ocean is even more pungent. My toes recoil from the feel of slippery seaweed, its big, slimy bulbs squishing between them as I walk. Tendrils of the sea plants reach out to encircle my ankles. The air even tastes salty here. There's no hurry, and I can take my time, searching the tangled seaweed for a bit of glass tumbled and polished by the sea and sand, a piece of smooth driftwood or an special shell. And I think of a quote that is pinned to my bulletin board: "My life is like a stroll on the beach...as near to the edge as I can go." (Henry David Thoreau)

We'll come back soon....