by Ethan S. Fogg
‘Tis the season for swimming, hiking and beach-walking. Late summer is the backdrop of many of my earliest adventures as a child: building treehouses in the woods, exploring along streams and lakeshores and collecting shells and stones.
I have quite a few fossil rocks and seashells today that have been passed down by my parents and their parents – keepers that remind me of swim lessons on August mornings at Cayuga Lakes State Park, picnics on day trips to Chimney Bluffs and Fair Haven Beach, and in some cases, more far-flung travels. My father’s steady hand and a number two pencil marked some of these natural wonders “Stonehenge,” “Normandy” and “Grand Canyon.”
For years, I held on to an extensive collection of arrowheads that had been my grandfather’s. In the same worn wooden box for almost 50 years, I gave these handsome artifacts to a friend some time ago. While the friend and the collection are not in my life today, this hand-off is a great example of the power of unique and beautiful items to endure, beguile and “wash up on shore” in new places and times and families. My only hope – and my grandfather’s, too – is that these keepers bring joy and inspire curiosity, over and over again.
“If you love something, set it free…” Often attributed to Richard Bach, this quote tells me the earth loves shells and stones. The tilling of the plow, the patter of the rain and the beating of the tides are forever unearthing treasures for the collector, the crafter and the beachcomber.
While many of the beautiful pieces in my modest collection are of unknown origin, a few hold fond memories. They are links to another time and place: a vignette including my folks or my siblings, or my own travels to Europe or California or Down East Maine. I don’t have a favorite, but I have always treasured the fist-sized hag stone that sat on the kitchen windowsill in my childhood home, and the dinner-plate sized abalone that came home with a young Fogg family from a trip to Mobile and Pensacola. More than 50 years ago, my sister brought a starfish home from that trip. Alive. In her luggage. I wouldn’t recommend it.
What I would recommend is finding a pocket-sized keeper – a fossil, shell or perhaps a piece of sea glass – every time you swim in a lake, take a day hike or walk on a beach, one the earth loved enough to set free. Safety first: Make sure harvesting these items is not against park policy and that you’re not standing too close to a bluff or fast water or poison ivy. If the coast is clear, take the shell or stone home with you, wash it in plain water and use it to build your own collection of shells and stones and stories of your adventures. These natural wonders are free and environmentally friendly. And if you ever lose interest, they’re easily gifted to a friend or returned to the earth without guilt or ceremony.
