Just back from Sarasota after more than two weeks of amazing blue sky and warm weather. Always rejuvenating, always insightful. Especially wonderful this year as it was shared with family.
Blissful beach walking. Turquoise water, brightly colored parasails, tropical flowers and neon birds. Gem-like, bright, balmy and spirit lifting. A great contrast to the grey cold of winter in the Mid-Atlantic.
Soul warming weather prompted vacationers to search the beaches for the perfect shells to hold their memories. Prodding with a foot, bending over, examining, tossing, moving on to find just the right one. As Sarasota is so familiar, I long ago stopped collecting shells. My sketch book contains my impressions of “The Pretty Place.”
But I find it’s the pieces of shells that hold me spellbound. Bright burnt sienna stipes on a large piece of shell. Imagine the size of the original. The mystery of the missing. What happened on it’s journey to leave that particular portion of what was once whole. Broken spirals are especially delightful. Looking into the souls of perfect shells, exposed and abstract. Allowing me to focus totally on the beauty of the curve,
A perfect piece of shell. They’re all perfect. Like a found feather from a bird. Standing in it’s own beauty, but part of something larger. Just like each and every one of us.
Ahhh, sweet Sarasota. Your bits and pieces certainly contribute greatly to my year of joyful living.