The last photo displays the variety of seashells I was able to gather during my stay with "M" in her Gulf Coast home this past winter. I spent seven wonderful weeks with her in this serene setting, and made a mission out of collecting as many "Common Suncoast Sea Shells" (as listed in the photo on page 8 of The Florida Info Guide) as I possibly could.
When I returned to New York State, I was only able to bring a select few back with me (that is, as many as I could carry on the plane without breaking my back!). Two each of the smaller treasures, such as the Lettered Olives (aka "Oliva Sayana"), and one of the larger gems, like the Giant Atlantic Cockle (aka "Donocardium Robustum"). I arranged them lovingly in a white shadow box, as shown in the photo. Although not nearly as impressive as "M"s hand-made shell table, it serves its purpose. When I look at them, I remember the many magical moments I shared with "M" during that time.
The rest of my "loot" (and there was a LOT!!!) I left behind so that "M" would be able to look at them every day, just as she had done with her own collection back home. The only thing missing was the hand-made table, but I was able to successfully improvise in that area. It turns out that plastic fruit and baked goods containers from the grocery store can make quite a nice display case for sea shells! Cheap and lightweight, yet still good for viewing! And as reported by "M"s new Florida caregivers, she enjoys looking at the shells quite often, which is all I could have hoped for.
Thinking back to my time with "M" in Florida, I realize that it wasn't the shells that made such a lasting impression on me. Rather, it was the process of sharing my finds with "M" that made gathering them such a joy.
During the course of my stay, I would often take "M" down to the very end of a lovely neighborhood called Pass a Grille, right at the tip of St. Petersburg Beach. There, she could sit on a bench and not only watch a wide variety of boats go in and out of the Gulf, but also enjoy the only area of the beach that allowed access to dogs. "M" loves all animals, especially cats and dogs. While I searched the rocky shoreline for that "one of a kind" find, "M" was able to relax and enjoy the antics and companionship of her new canine neighbors. It was a win-win!
I always had "M" in my line of sight while shell seeking. We would go to the beach near sunset, which is when the best shells would roll in. Wrapped in a brightly colored blanket, complete with a sunhat and shades, "M" stood out from the casually clad locals who walked their furry friends in this coveted little cove. Every time I looked back to see if she was okay, I could see her beautiful white hair gently blowing under her sunhat. So regal and distinguished looking. Definitely a Snowy Egret!
Every few minutes, I would run up from the shore with a handful of shells and place them on a concrete wall that blocked the sidewalk and bench from the beach area. Eagerly, I would lay them out and line them up so that "M" could see what I'd found. She was delighted, and would point to the ones that she considered "keepers." Then, deferring to her ninety years of experience in this hobby, I would run back to the beach to return the others to their watery home.
Being a novice to shell seeking, however, I didn't realize that many of my finds contained living crustaceans. As the little critters began to polk their pincers out of their conch enclosures, I ran even faster! So that was why the locals trolled this particular spot! Dinner!
Every now and then, another shell seeker, always more knowledgeable than me, would come over to "M"s bench and assess our collection. He (or sometimes she) would look at my chintzy Florida Info Guide and chuckle. "If you want to find THAT shell, you need to look over THERE!" Then, a craggy wet hand would point to an extremely rocky embankment bordering a not-so-sturdy-looking wooden fishing pier. Hmmmmmmm. It was worth a shot. Heeding their advice, I decided to find out exactly what was over THERE!
From what I've been told, the best shells wash on the shore around dusk. Thus, my trips to the beach at the cove with "M" would be planned for that time of day. While the sun was setting gloriously on the other side of the Pass a Grille Peninsula, I was stumbling around slippery rocks that in their greyish brown hue, looked exactly like the surrounding water. Water shoes? Nahhhhhh! I was all set for the occasion in flip-flops! In hindsight, this was NOT a brilliant idea.
One time, however, a unique and very distinctive looking shell landed right at the foot of my scraped up feet! I snatched it up as quick as I could, suspecting that it was something very special. Then I ran/limped back to "M"s bench to share my find! Her eyes lit up, and I could tell that she, too, knew it was a very special shell. I checked it for creeping crustaceans, and the coast was clear! This one was definitely a keeper, and I wrapped it up in a plastic bag to keep it safe.
Back at "M"s home, our seashell finds were creating quite a sight in the large, multi-counter topped kitchen. After each trip, "M" would sit in her usual chair at the corner of the table that divided the kitchen from the living area. It was a tall swivel chair with arms, very well suited for a woman of "M"s stature. Her feet could even touch the floor, although mine were always hung limply in the air due to my much shorter height.
While preparing dinner, I would lay the shells out (washed, dried, and placed on paper towels, of course) across the counter tops so that "M" and I could peruse them during our meal. She seemed to take great pleasure in looking at the collection, and as hoped, she would often recall stories from her past triggered by a particular shell.
On my end, I took great pleasure in hearing her tales. Many of them involved a year she had spent during her childhood at her grandparents' home on a "key" about an hour south of where we currently were. It was back in the late 1920s or early 1930s, and the area was quite different than it is today. No condos or timeshares. No sun-worshipping tourists. No "snowbirds" seeking refuge from the cold Northeast winters. Just a few hearty folks who were brave enough to set up shop in what was a still an untamed, tropical paradise. "M"s adventurous, nature-loving spirit surely was a gift from her grandparents!
One of her favorite stories was about a man that her grandfather knew. She couldn't recall the man's name, or how her grandfather was acquainted with him. And she couldn't remember exactly how old she was at the time. What she did recall was that he had an airplane. And it was that very plane that inspired her eighty year love-affair with flight!
Oh... Have I not mentioned previously that "M" was a pilot? And that she taught young naval recruits how to fly during World War II?
Aha! This is yet another fascinating piece of "M"s remarkable patchwork that I will have to share with you in more detailed depth at a later date...
Thank you for joining us on our journey so far!
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