This morning: ready to grout!
Because beach glass is so irregular, the grout can't be put on with a trowel. We bought disposable gloves and massaged it in. C and I each did half. There was no way to keep from mostly covering the glass. But the grout sponged easily from the surface.
C did a little fine tuning with a toothpick.
We still have to buff the haze from the glass tomorrow, but we are pretty darn proud of our work.
My beach glass gathering had no goal in mind when I first started pocketing it two years ago. After finding so many pretty pieces, I thought I might want to make jewelry. Dan gave me some diamond drill bits for my birthday in November. He was already feeling pretty low energy by then, so his promise of a dremel tool or a small drill press to go with the drill bits did not materialize. I like the fireplace better than the jewelry idea. Dan died a week before his birthday. So his present--tickets to a James Taylor concert--didn't happen either.
As a reward for our morning of labor, C and I kayaked to lunch--but we kept well away from yesterday's gigantic sea lions.
Tomorrow C returns home to her regular life. I've got a few smaller projects in mind. I plan to keep busy. A little painting. A lot of house cleaning and patio clean-up that went undone for a long while. Maybe even some mending. Oh--and some book publicity. I have a book coming out. Yeah, I'm a writer. So don't try to hire me to make you a fabulous beach glass fireplace. I will be back at my desk before too long. (I'm repeating that last line like a mantra.)
4 comments:
How right that looks, your frieze of sea-scrubbed colors.
The fireplace looks beautiful. The most shocking part of death I find is that life continues on, there is a hole and so much pain but the sun still rises and sets, meals still need to be made and eaten. Sending hugs.
Your project turned out beautifully. What a perfect distraction, and what a great thing to do with your daughter and your collection. My sea glass collection fills a shot glass, not much to do with that, but my rocks and my seashells? Buckets full, so maybe I will be inspired to do Something with them.
I've been thinking of you and hoping that you are doing well, as well as a person grieving can be, and so glad you continue to write. Gladder still that you let us share the journey with you.
What lily said is so true, it is the most shocking thing about grief, that the world keeps turning as if nothing were different. Everything is different, isn't it?
I'm happy that you have a beach to walk to, and comb for more treasure, because just the sound of the water is so comforting to me and beachcombing can distract me better than anything.
xo
I thought I'd left a comment here but perhaps I was reading on my phone and only meant to. That sea glass frontis is simply beautiful. A lovely tribute to the man who loves you still.
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