Plum Island is about an hour drive from Boston. Not too far away, but far enough that it's a perfect place to spend an afternoon adventuring. We had a breakfast date at Mad Martha's and got to the beach an hour or two before sunset (so, you know, 2pm) as the tide was at its lowest and the sand was just beginning to turn the blue and purple hues of a winter's dusk. We walked the beach, collecting driftwood and shells for my art, admiring the sand ripples left by an unusually low tide and high winds. It was nice just to walk together outside of the city.
We trekked up from the shore to explore the dunes just as the sun was dipping down onto the horizon.
And then, wedged deep in the pink sand under a driftwood log, hidden in the long shadows, I found this:
Lost by someone and found by me, a rain-proof field notebook packed with five years of handwritten wildlife observations, pressed feathers and life musings. It was incredible! I am not an avid bird or wildlife watcher, but I am happily curious about the world in general, and this tiny book was a beautiful look into someone's thoughtfulness and passion for the outdoors. And really, how can you not be totally smitten over a discovery like this?
I wanted nothing more than to add it to my stash of found paper and incorporate it into the artwork I created with photos and shells from Plum Island. I could have leafed through the pages for hours admiring the lists and sketches, a sort of artwork in their own way. But... there was a name in the front and I knew its original owner would want it back. I shipped it to Maine today with just a little remorse.
On our way out, we caught the full moon rising over the Atlantic.