|It started one February|
Actually, I'm smiling because this is all so new to me. I'm smiling because I love adventure. I'm smiling while I wait for the surf to recede so I can see if the clam is still there under my gun. I'm smiling because my friend was laughing with me while we waited for the water to flow back out to the ocean.
I don't eat clams. I don't like them. One is allowed to dig 15 clams per person per day. We dug clams for two days and came home with 60 cleaned, washed clams ready to clook up. While I don't eat these things I sure had a great time digging. This makes no sense to me now, in retrospect. It was cold. It was cold and windy. It was cold and windy and usually dark. It was cold and windy and dark and I didn't know any better that I can wait for summer when it is warm and windy and light. Oh, it was cold and windy and dark and raining SIDEWAYS. You can't see that in the picture, but I wasn't sure if I was being sand blasted or power washed.
It was just such a thrill to actually pull one of these clams up out of the sand, and it was so relatively easy and often, that both days when we reached limit I was willing to help out fellow clammers. (Like they needed it, doh)
Of course after a healthy morning outside in the surf digging clams one does well to find a cheap breakfast at the local casino and a couple Bloody Mary's to ward off any colds from being power washed by the sideways rain. It wasn't until later that we started cleaning the clams.
And rinse and rinse and rinse. And when you get home it is imperative that you make baked clams for the girl you take to the ocean to dig clams, even if she doesn't like clams. And it's kind of interesting that she eats 'em because you made them. Even more interesting is she says she'd eat 'em again too if you wanted. They weren't so bad.
Reprise: Several weekends later (months?) she is stealing the manila clams the two of you dug up on a north shore out of your bowl to eat them before you do.