First, there was a piece of seaweed clinging to a rock, looking to me exactly like a bonsai tree when I picked it up from the shore yesterday morning. Its miniature size, and tenacity, delighted me.
Later on I found a sand dollar, entirely whole, which is not common for me to find. Its width is about four inches across. But when I brought them home with assorted whelks and conch shells, they made a terrific stink. I will have to put them back into the sea today, temporal creatures that they are, but I enjoyed them while I held them.
Last night I finished this, an utter masterpiece of a book, which is exactly how I hope to begin each year’s reading. Arcadia Books had sent it to me years ago, yet I foolishly kept it on the shelf until this month.
As with all books which I love deeply, I am unable to write about it as Scott of seraillon has done. (You will not find a review of my most treasured books here, only a mention from time to time, as I am afraid I will ruin them by my shoddy analyses.) I cannot pretend that my thoughts will illuminate the author’s properly, nor that I can convey the power of those incredible books. They reside in my heart silently, but ever present.
All I can say is that for me, They Were Counted is one of those treasures.