If beachcombing were a profession, Su Kirk would be the employee of the year. She creates beauty with broken bits of glass that wash upon the shore, and shares her talent with everyone who crosses her path.

There is a myth that sea glass comes from mermaid tears, shed over the harsh hand dealt to them by Neptune, god of the sea, or the loss of a beloved sailor. They come in all colors, one of the most rare being red, and Su’s eye can spot a good piece in even the rainiest weather on the west coast of Washington state.

Su learned silversmithing decades ago, and chose it over other types of metal simply because it was the kind she could afford at the time. She tried her hand at pottery, goblet making, and copper-work too, but eventually leaned into the niche of silver jewelry, investing in equipment of all sorts—which helped expand her ability to create a variety of pieces and develop her own personal style of work.

“I like going and finding the sea glass—that’s my obsession now,” she said as we walked along the beach, scarves and hoods wrapped snug around our faces to protect us from the rain and wind of an early winter day at the beach. She’s been in Washington for thirteen years after moving from her lifelong home in Arizona. I told her I thought that was a pretty big shift when it comes to climate and she said, “Yeah, I’d wake up every morning, the sun was shining, and I’d get pissed off. You know, you can only take so much, and it was hot, and getting hotter all the time!” She was certainly ready for a change, and added “…plus there’s no beachcombing in Arizona!” I once lived in Arizona too, and though I’m sure it’s a blessing to many sun-loving folks, I tend to agree with Su on this one.

But life can throw occasional unpleasant surprises in our path and when Su’s husband had a stroke, she had to sell her equipment. Thankfully, she was able to sell it to a friend who doesn’t mind sharing, so Su still uses it to further her jewelry making efforts. She has a lot of favorite pieces and sometimes asks herself, “Why did you sell that? But you can only have so many size 8 rings, because you know, that’s my size!”

I asked Su if she could name one of her best beach finds. I guessed she might say she found a piece of antique jewelry or a message in a bottle. But no. She took a beachcombing trip a few years ago and stumbled upon a deceased whale! Then, last September, she returned to the same spot and found the entire skeleton still intact.

Su and I walked and talked for two miles along that beach. She was constantly scanning the ground, investigating interesting pieces. “Is that an agate,” I asked when she showed me a pretty rock. “Yep,” she replied, “and they feel waxy.” These days, aside from her time on the beach, she finds ways to stay busy, like when her six grandkids come to visit, or when she teaches yoga (going on 13 years) at the community center. She wants to be able to go to the beach in her eighties, “…because the minute that I can’t go to the beach it won’t be worth it…I keep teaching yoga because I always thought that [eventually] I can go down to a resort in Costa Rica or something, and I’d still be flexible. I could still go to the beach!”

Sea glass, originally discarded trash, is a symbol of transformation and healing. Su takes that concept a step further by giving each piece a new life, a meaningful one where it is loved and appreciated. If you’re ever at a Washington beach, keep an eye out for Su in her distinctive white Jeep, the one with a collection of rubber duckies in the window. And thank you Su, for spending time with me and opening my eyes to the creative beauty of an ordinary piece of broken glass. Check out Su’s beautiful jewelry on Instagram and Etsy @seahag101.

Find Su on a Washington beach, or on Instagram and Etsy @seahag101.

Now, you all know what a fan I am of telling sweet stories like this, especially if it inspires you to tell your own. RootsTech is coming soon, an annual family history convention where you can learn more about your own story. Registration is open and the class schedule is now available, so sign up today!

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