Searching for Sea Glass

Photo by Peter Wilk

Why search for sea glass? For as long as I can remember, summer after summer  I’ve embraced this ritual. Like many neighbors, on many mornings I zig zag the length of the beach across the street in two directions. With my head tipped to the sand, my gaze alert to any aberration from the mussel shells, periwinkles, crab carcasses, stones of all sizes, and the occasional sea gull carcass, the glint of glass calls to me. 

The hunt for sea glass is often a form of meditation for me. With the splashing waves announcing their ebb and flow in my ear as I stroll the sand’s perimeter, single-mindedly attuned to my quest, worries and upsets of the moment often evaporate. Instead, my mind sharpens on the probability of an imminent reveal: a shimmering (or dull) shard of glass––large or small, curved or flat, smoky or clear. Over the years I’ve become more selective. I often forgo green, brown, or white pieces presently, especially if tiny, sharp or translucent. But should I discover a cobalt blue or lavender specimen buried in the sand, my grin widens as I lay it in hand, delighting in its beauty. 

Ferried to the shore by these northeastern Atlantic waters, fragments of red sea glass are the rarest find of all. More than once, sea glass seekers like me have been duped by a ruddy shimmer at our feet, only to discover that it’s not glass at all, but plastic detritus instead. Still, the sighting of a smooth-edged, ruby-colored bit of sea glass laying in the sand interrupts all quiet musings, swapping them for loud giggles of boastful delight and wonder.