I do not really know how to tell the age of a seashell, and apparently Google doesn’t either. So I’ll just go with my own, more romantic, mermaidesque interpretation. Having gathered thousands of shells in my life, I know when one is recently vacated by its resident. It tends to look shiny, with sharp ridges and vibrant colors. Given that bit of wisdom, I can only imagine that this conch, with its wave-beaten sworls worn down to soft semblances of their former selves, has seen a century or so in the sea. Its shadow, however, somehow reflects its past glory, with edges seemingly still honed. The shadow of a memory, perhaps.

Worn By the Sea
Cozumel, Mexico.

Quote of the day: “I seek truth and beauty in the transparency of an autumn leaf, in the perfect form of a seashell on the beach, in the curve of a woman’s back, in the texture of an ancient tree trunk, but also in the elusive forms of reality.” == Isabel Allende

Daily gratitudes:
A crescent moon
Corgis
Work
MKL
The first hearing of the twee-woo bird, a sure sign of spring