Moonsnails underfoot on a barrier island in North Carolina. In the late 1980s I began making neckpieces with beads, weathered shells, hardware. Often I used eye or "I" beads from various countries as symbols: "good eyes" to ward off evil. The beach strewn with moonsnails large and small seemed a blanket of natural eye beads. This large shell [Holden Beach, N.C.] is encircled by copper wire, Italian glass, ceramic, stone, plastic beads; metal washers and tubes, leather cord, vintage button closing. "Courage, My Love" was its title, the name of a Toronto store visited a couple of years earlier.
Why "weathered" shells? Pushed around in the ocean, less-than-perfect shells have uneven surfaces, rough edges. They are my personal vision of women's history of adornment, homage to our aging and survival.
The New York Times mentioned a bean unknown to me in a good-sounding recipe for a parsley pesto.
1 1/2 pounds cranberry beans (or other fresh beans) in their shells
1 head plus 2 cloves garlic
3 leaves sage
Freshly ground black pepper
1 cup (packed) fresh parsley leaves
6 ounces (about 4 slices) bacon, cut into small pieces
10 to 12 ounces crimini mushrooms, thinly sliced.
Few days later I saw them in a local greenmarket: pretty, purple-spotted beans. Recipe was delicious but the beans lost their spots!