Washed Ashore

As usual, I was thinking about the moments of the past,
letting my memory rush over them like water
rushing over the stones on the bottom of a stream.
I was even thinking a little about the future, that place
where people are doing a dance we cannot imagine,
a dance whose name we can only guess.

from Nostalgia, by Billy Collins

This jar is glowing with the sunset from March 30th, but since I found it lying on the beach at Pretty Marsh just this morning I don't think it's cheating to post it again today. Now that I figured out how to do this it will be hard not to post lots more photos of things in jars. 

The extra is an update on the Town Goose, who appeared in this journal all the way back in January. Unfortunately it appears the goose is no longer with us, and a memorial has been built, complete with signs, flowers, poetry and artwork. According to the local paper, however, the fate of the goose is still unknown. 

Perhaps it will appear in a jar floating somewhere in a future journal entry.