To some, the definition of “best beaches” includes phrases such as “hard to find” and “footprint-free.”
Whereas my own definition includes “sea-shells” “bounty” and “endless.”
So imagine my delight when on the trust of a whim we pulled to the side of the road, across from the Wesley Methodist Church in James Cistern, Eleuthera, and discovered a beach covered from water-line to high water mark in milk conch-shells. Mother Nature’s assortment practically begging us to assist in her efforts to recycle from our first imprints in the black-speckled sand. It taking no more than a few minutes until my hands felt heavily weighted by the prized possessions, each find bearing a marked change in characteristics. Each noticeably different than the last. On some, the outer shell sanded down by the elements of sun, sand and sea. On others the lip of the shell shined quite brightly. From one find to the next their amount of decay telling a story, hinting at an existence much longer or shorter than their counterpart. Each however bleached by the burning sun and all deserving of finding their way on to my tablescape, alongside this trinket box.
P.S. This rocky beach is not as ideal for swimming as it is for shelling.