I went to the beach with a friend. I tried to only listen to her stories and not throw in a bunch of my own, but it was hard. It makes me realize how much I talk about myself, so I’m still working on cutting that cord.
The picture above was taken at a tomato festival in Chile, and made me think of an intereresting event at the beach. With the morning low tides, folks would wade out in the shallows in green muck up to their knees to go clamming. Some dug on exposed sandbars, but even that was pretty squishy. I just couldn’t do it.
“It’s fun,” my friend proclaimed. “You’ll forget about the goo and the get busy raking clams out of the rocks and seaweed.”
“Now I know why I don’t care for clams,” I said. “I wondered why they had that chewy texture.”
I confess. I like a good bath or shower. Even on a backbacking trip, I plunge myself into a cool pool of water each evening.
There have been a few times along the trail that the water has dried up. The only puddles left were foamed with bloated algae. Even after filtering and boiling the water (for drinking and cooking), it had a green tint to it.
Sometimes you have to make do with what you have. Now that I think about it…I bet I can wade in tidal goop and rake out some clams.
Perhaps HOPE is discovering that with necessity— we can change priorities.