In case you’re new here, I’m from Kansas. Terms like “high tide” and “low tide” mean little to this earth-hugging flatlander from Middle America (a.k.a., me). But since moving to Florida a little more than one year ago, I have developed a slight addiction to sea-shelling. As a fairly new “sheller,” I’m pretty flabbergasted at the amount of shells I see when taking an early-morning beach walk near my home in Siesta Key but even more so when I took a short walk near Longboat Key last weekend.

I feel as if some context might be appropriate regarding my love of shelling.

During my elementary school years, I remember a portion of my great-grandmother’s yard in Kansas brimming with shells. Besides spending time with my Great-Grandmother Iness (we called her Grandma Iney), I loved the opportunity to peek into her flower bed and pick out any shell I wanted to take home. And to a 7-year-old little girl, these shells were gorgeous! I remember colorful shells, flat shells, striped shells, shells with interesting shapes and sizes, and tiny shells so smooth I could hardly believe it.

I remember asking my parents how Grandma Iney found all her shells. They told me she and my great-grandfather liked to drive down to Texas and bring back bags full of shells to Kansas. At the time, I pictured my grandmother walking on the beach, picking out specific shells just for me — and was slightly disappointed when I saw my cousins taking home shells after their visits to grandma’s house as well.

With more and more great-grandchildren of shelling age, the place in the yard where Grandma Iney’s shells were stationed became more barren. Grandma wasn’t strong enough to travel anymore, and within a few years the only shells left in the yard were the “not so special” ones I purposefully ignored years before.

In my mind, shells were special, just like my great-grandmother who brought them home.

Upon moving to Florida, my eyes were suddenly open to the existence of shells EVERYWHERE! Shells on the beach, shells in the sand, shells in the asphalt for people’s driveways! Down here, ample amounts of shells exist at every turn — and for the first several months I lived here, I became like that 7-year-old girl again, giggling and cherishing each shell I was able to hold!

I’m still a pretty big sheller — though my fairly impressive, 14-month shell collection has waned a bit since giving many pieces away to my nieces and nephews living in the Midwest.

This past weekend I was able to reconnect with my cousin and his family from Minnesota. Part of the evening involved a sunset beach walk with our toes in the ocean, right along Longboat Key. We were ever so pleased to see the extreme amount of shells waiting for us at sunset (the low tide revealing what normally couldn’t be seen underwater). Our treasure hunting uncovered three full-sized sand dollars, large clams, brightly colored scallops and perfectly formed augers. We all marveled (somewhat loudly, as is customary in our family) over the incalculable number of shells we encountered and how the best shelling of the trip was saved for the final night of their stay in Florida, thanks to the low tide.

Time passes, tides rise and fall, but smiles remain abundant as shells are thoroughly examined, picked up, taken home and passed on.

— Carrie Cox, account executive