Was able to get to the beach this morning to walk barefoot in the sand. It was deep and very soft, allowing my feet to sink in and gather the warmth from the sand grains. My shoes were abandoned close to my friend who was sunbathing, and I walked the rest of the way to the water’s edge.
The soft pliable sand caressing my feet suddenly gave way to a very gravelly patch, with rounded stones that pressed on the soles of my feet, making my progress quite slow. I had to pick my way around them and walk carefully. There were thousands of bottle caps laying hidden in the gravelly sand. Plastic blue ones that you know are Coke’s Aquafina bottles, white caps from various other drinks, but laying hidden among those (and curiously outnumbering the plastic ones) were metallic caps that look like the relics on old glass coke bottles. Those can do some real damage!
There was also a small body spray, partially used, probably the favorite scent of the woman (or man) who left it there. It was half empty and some of the liquid had evaporated and then condensed on the inside of the bottle, leaving neat little droplets that shone in the sunlight.
There was one more surprising thing. A guitar string that had probably snapped, removed and the wound up to be discarded. The romance surrounding guitar playing at the beach, probably at sunset, is unmistakable. She leans up against you as you hold the guitar, singing a song about the mournful loss of love, the brief experience of it, the loss of it. She turns to you enraptured, breathless, giving you the “I’m ready” cue. Le sigh!
I mock it, not because guitar strumming on the beach at dusk isn’t a brilliant move on anyone’s part, but because the sentiment is marred by the stupid string laying on a beautiful beach.
As one favorite restaurant says on their menu, “Take care of our planet, it is the only one with chocolate,” the importance of taking care of our beautiful planet cannot be emphasized enough. Bottle caps, bottles, baby wipes, guitar strings, kite parts, all this rubbish laying within 10 feet of a trash can is deplorable.
But shush now, I’m off to go purchase some plastic myself, so I’d better be careful about how indignant I get!