Flotsam and Jetsam

H's photo because, as you can see, my hands are full!

One of the loveliest things about being by the sea is the endless possibility of treasures and finds that seem to make their way into pockets and hands as one walks along the shore. Pebbles, shells, bits of driftwood, even seaweed - all are fair game. The only limits are size - no rocks, or what I consider rocks but H regards as wee pebbles! And nothing with anything living inside it; also nothing with anything dead inside it. I love collecting discarded shells and it makes a nice holiday challenge to come up with some way of doing something with what one has collected. Just piling them into a sea-coloured bowl as a table centrepiece with or without a candle is lovely but one or two other ideas have come along over the years.

For this one you need imperfect shells with holes in them. I love this idea very much because it makes something intriguing and beautiful out of what one would normally discard as being broken and imperfect. In fact the more damage done by sea and erosion the better, especially to complicated shells, because it makes them easier to thread.

All you need is a selection of broken shells with holes in them and some thin string (and a bit of patience for any curly-wurly shells as they are not easy to persuade the string to go through always). Thread the shells on the string in whatever order pleases you, making a hanging loop at the top and knotting a couple or more shells together at the bottom to give a bit of weight and you have a sea chime to hang in your porch or your kitchen as a happy reminder of carefree summer days when they are long gone.

This is today's one. May make another tomorrow depending on what my beach combing throws up!

And for those of you curious to know where on the British coastline I am - this is West Dorset not far from the cliffs that collapsed last week. A salutary reminder that in the midst of life ....

All the more important then, to live what we've been given because, without being morbid, none of us knows how long that is.