A garden of stones at the beach When we first moved to this rather tiny island it was a cold and stormy valentine's day. We ordered take away Chinese food and ate at the dining room table surrounded by piles of old books tied together with twine. The surf crashed outside our windows but we were warm and cozy inside our beach house. In the Spring I ventured outside to the beaches. At the beginning I couldn't bear to part with any of my little treasures... Joe said he would look out the window and see me walking the beach and across the street toward home with a handful of stones, a pocketful of beach glass or a piece of driftwood thrown over my shoulder. All through that first summer I found tiny treasures left upon the beaches. Clam shells nestled into each other babushka style, beautiful heart shaped rocks left in conspicuous places where the sun would shine upon them, circles of starf