I could not wait any longer. The battle against depression has driven me out to Maine's frozen beaches after dark. Obviously, the earth is frozen solid here until March, at the earliest, and I have been saying for weeks that the beach is the only thing that doesn't freeze. Well, I was wrong again. It was seven o'clock and as the temperature plunged toward the teens, the upper crust of the beach sand began to freeze. By eight, it had become impermeable and not even the razor-sharp tip of my Lesche digging tool would poke through.
However, in the one hour interim, I manages to pull out a few corroded wheaties, 1957 and 1954; and my first silver of the year, two badly tarnished Rosies, 1934 and 1946. Also, 32 cents in clad and a small unidentifiable copper (lower right coin in the 1st pic). Plus, there was this very cool old pocket-watch interior. It told me what time it was--it was time to pack it up and leave until the sun thaws out the sand. Beaches freeze, too.
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