Summer. . .

Cannot come fast enough. I stroll through the surf for hours, searching for treasures. The ocean brings magic: rocks and shells and beach glass.  Below, the rock in the middle is my fave, striated with quartz. I keep it in a small shrine in my front hallway.

All from Fire Island, I once brought handfuls like the smallest one to a man I knew;  he carried them around in his pockets. I carry the one on the right to remind me that warm weather will come again. img_6879.jpg

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