Something From Nothing

Road Dust and Writing Signs Post #8

Bits and pieces are everywhere we look. When we travel along any coastline, we see art made from driftwood, shells, and sea glass—one of my favorite beach items found at a local shop: jewelry featuring glittering sand particles and minuscule crushed rocks. Works of art made from beach finds turn into sweet reminders of time spent at the shore, memories worth revisiting, especially during the dark winter months.

After the July Fourth parade in Brattleboro, Vermont, we took a break in a shady seating area downtown where a backdrop of found dishes, tiles, miniature animals, and other trinkets was fashioned into a spectacular mural of wildlife and quotes. Hundreds of people donated pieces for the mosaic mural created with the goal of revitalizing the downtown area. Visitors are treated to a new view every time they stop by, because you can’t see everything with just one look.

Even the lobstermen from Maine and the Atlantic provinces participate in crafting art from their cast-offs. Distressed painted buoys hang on walls and in gardens, while reclaimed lobster rope in every color is woven into doormats, baskets, and picnic hampers. Months after my visit there, I’m still thinking about the bright rope designs, and the memory makes me smile. Soon, other memories join the party - wild blueberries, lobster rolls with butter and a squeeze of lemon, and a delightful candy called Needams made from potatoes!

In my writing life, I gather and repurpose constantly. Scraps of conversations, glances from strangers, and glimpses of life happening as we drive or walk past are all items that wash up on our shoreline or land on our doorstep.

The middle-aged man performed daring bicycle stunts in front of our RV while we waited in traffic. The crew of surfers tackled huge waves on the Outer Banks in North Carolina during a Noreaster. The child I met at a park stared straight into my eyes and told me he plans to slay dragons for a living. The shirtless man at the market told me he had twenty cats because Florida will neuter them for free. A kind employee at the Yale Collection of Rare Books took my hobbling husband on a secret elevator so he wouldn’t have to tackle the stairs. Who knows how these snippets may be repurposed for fiction?

Writers make mountains out of molehills for a living, and anything we encounter in real life fertilizes the soil of our stories. In the Green Mountains, I encountered a young couple at least half my age struggling near the end of a hiking trail I had just started down. Panting and sweating, the young man turned to me and said, “Lady, I’d turn back now if I was you. This trail about killed me.” I just giggled and kept walking. Most often, turning back isn’t an option. The reward lies at the end of the trail. Writing is just like that.

Until next time - stay warm and be blessed, Joy

Édouard Arsenault, an Acadien from Prince Edward Island, began collecting empty bottles after his daughter showed him a photo of a glass house in British Columbia. From 1980 to 1984, he cemented some 25,000 bottles together into three buildings, eventually adding a miniature lighthouse and landscaped gardens. This beautiful site is featured in the book "1000 Places to See Before You Die."