Searching For Sea Glass

On the last Thursday before Labor Day Janey and Sue-Sue sneak down to Alison’s beach in Harpswell to slam bottles against the rocks at low tide. Only tinted vessels will do like blue Zinfandel and violet Riesling. I always switch to Bombay for a day just to vary the hue. One time, Cyndy crashed the party with some veined cobalt china and Kristin imported a verdant Tanqueray to the smash, All for the honky-tonk next summer; the riot on the rocks, when the ardent hunt for sin-worn shards of blotted treasure resumes, certainly, enough to coax belief in Pirate skulls from unwashed seasonal guests. Bring your own lunch; there will be melon on carnival trays and blondies from an old umber tin; and we’ll dip ourselves in noon tides while our sweet dappled mysteries drift back in, and we search for them.