There is something about seashells impaled on a fence at the beach that requires a smile as I walk past. At the cedar fence and built-in bench which signals the end of Quason Lane and the beginning of the beach in Harwich Port shells sit like hats atop the posts. The fence is graying, the shells are calcifying in that porous kind of way that looks like an old bone the dog dug up in the woods. A neighbor tells me they've been there "forever" and who could argue? Some of them are open to reveal the inner coil that appears to have come from the beginning of time.
Public parking is prohibited by the Ayer Lane Association, and the beach is private as well. But if you find yourself on a stroll around the village, walk to the end of Quason Lane and check out this fence.
See if you can't help but smile too.