Yesterday was warm for late December, warm enough to clam barefoot. So I did.
Mudflats remind me of my mortality, not that anyone needed much reminding this year. Every empty shell had the same ending to share.
The back bay waters were quiet. A reddish-brown sea weed has, for now, taken over the shallows. A few shotgun blasts broke the quiet. Someone enjoys ducks as much as I enjoy clams.
A small blue claw clung to my rake for a few moments, then let go–I saw it scurrying back under the brown blanket of seaweed.
Happy New Year!