The Corner of the Eye

Petrified Wood,  Lincoln Park, Seattle

A walk on a beach used to be all about the view: not anymore.  Start me walking on a cobble beach, like so many here in Puget Sound country, and it's all I can do not to stare down at my feet as I walk. It's usually better to do this on my own, rather than impose my distractions on friends and family, who might wonder why I never look up...or speak...

Sometimes, it is nearly impossible to stop scouring the gravel for something interesting. In the great tradition of treasure-hunters and fishermen there is always the forlorn hope that something miraculous is about to happen: your pan will reveal a gold nugget, a massive fish will bite, or (in this case) a beautiful, unexpected stone will suddenly appear at your feet.

Consider this: there may be several million cobbles on a hundred yards of beach. So how do you train your eyes, and your reflexes, to ignore the multitudes in favor of the unique?  I have no idea. I look for bright color, of course, or a striking pattern. I'm guessing it was the latter of those that drew my eye to this thing, off to one side. No reds or blues to catch my attention, just an eye-catching irregularity that made it jump out.

There is a maxim in beach-rock-hunting : a dry rock is, by and large, an ugly rock. That's why it makes sense to patrol the water's edge, where the surf has dampened the rocks, revealing the true color and pattern of the otherwise gray shapeless cobbles that cover the beach. (You can also go on a falling tide, or better yet, a misty day.)  This one I liked it so much, even dry, that I couldn't wait for a wave, and simply gave it a quick lick - sanitation be damned!

This salty exercise revealed a small, slightly glassy agate-like stone, but with a distinctly non-agate structure.  Who knows what it is or, as always, where it originated?  But it's one I was delighted to find.