This poem recollects one of my favorite memories: a day my girlfriend and I spent at Alligator Point just south of Tallahassee. It was winter. The air was cold and the evening was fast approaching. She was collecting shells on the beach as if discovering new planets. In proper Wordsworthian fashion, this poem was waiting. I typed this on my Underwood 6, which she bought me a year ago. It is the best of my old machines.