All posts tagged Hatteras

A Beachcomber Going Home

The end of a vacation is always the hardest part. I’m already thinking about everything I have to do when we get home. But I have something like a gazillion photos to play with later in Photoshop and a pile of shells to add to our collection (which is entirely too big already, but what can I do? I have to bring home shells. I’m pretty sure it’s a rule.)

So, of course, I took a picture before I packed them up.

And then I thought, people are going to want to see some of these close up. That’s our one piece of beach glass there in the middle plus the claw of an anonymous crustacean, a whelk egg case, and a vetebral bone from I-don’t-know-what because beachcombing isn’t just recreation for me, it’s a fairly serious compulsion.

And here’s our man-made stuff (i.e. artifacts, because I am convinced at least one of these items came from a shipwreck and not just from a tourist’s pocket). My partner found the quarter (obviously modern). Her sister found the crucifix and I found the coin I’m not going to identify for you. Your guess.

Time to pack the car and go turn in the keys.

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by Evolution of X on April 14, 2012 • Permalink

Posted in shutter-bugged

Tagged artifacts, Atlantic, beach, beach glass, beachcomber, Hatteras, home, ocean, Outer Banks, photos, shells, vacation

Posted by Evolution of X on April 14, 2012

http://forkinmyeye.com/2012/04/14/a-beachcomber-going-home/

(North) Carolina on My Mind

I’ve spent most of my life in the southeast U.S. and I love it. I grew up in southern Mississippi about a mile from the Gulf of Mexico, spent 2 years on the Florida west coast, and 10 years in the central Texas hill country. Those are all unique and beautiful places. But this mini photo essay is about the little piece of the South I call home now, North Carolina.

We lived in the western part of the state in the Blue Ridge Mountains for 10 years. Up there, you can’t throw a rock without hitting a national forest full of water falls, rhododendrons, black bears, abandoned mines, and hardwoods that turn fifty shades of brilliant in the fall. Now we’re living in the piedmont, about halfway between the mountains and the sea. The weather’s warmer, the land flatter, the wild flowers bloom longer, and the woods have a few more pines. And it’s just a few hours from the Outer Banks, 200 miles of largely undeveloped barrier islands that protect most of the Carolina coast from seas so treacherous that the area became known as the Graveyard of the Atlantic.