Among these low-tide wonders are the beach rocks. From tiny pebble to house-sized boulder they are all beautiful. We could not resist picking a few up and admiring them. Some went into pockets for transport home, others went back where they came from. Still others went into a few little rock sculptures we left in our wake.
Atop one of the largest boulders there bobbed a spotted sandpiper. We realized that there were few shorebirds here in Maine at this time of year. I guess most of them were farther north, nesting, or inland, where it's easier to nest near water without getting your eggs washed away by the incoming tide.
But back to the rocks. Why is it that when you take a lovely stone from some spot and put it in your pocket to take back home, it does not retain the same visual appeal as when you first encountered it? Is it the setting that makes the stone so beautiful? Is it the convergence of the natural elements that makes it so? Is it the moment of discovery? Who can say?
The stones we brought back from Maine (and I'm surprised that our plane could actually take off) look fine on our front stoop. But they looked even better on the rocky beach with all of their "friends."
Here are some macro shots I took of the patterns in the stone. To my eye, they look like wood grain and ocean waves all at once.