Sanibel is famous for shells. "It's because the island runs east to west," is the common refrain as this gives the island miles of south-facing beach that gradually slopes downward.
As you can see in this photo from the U.S. Geological Survey, the continental shelf here extends dramatically farther than on Florida's east coast. This is why meteorologists feared a massive storm surge during Hurricane Irma. The same phenomenon brings in the seashells.
I must confess, however, that on my first trips to Sanibel, I wasn't that impressed. I was expecting larger shells--the kind you can put to your ear and hear the ocean. Sanibel's offerings seemed so small and white, all the same. So boring.
I was mistaken.
There's beauty and color and diversity in those mounds of seashells. Some of my favorites are tinged with pink: the rose-petal tellins, the coral-colored coquinas, and scallops, to name a few.
And they're not all small.The Horse Conch, Florida's native shell, can grow up to two feet.
The Florida Fighting Conch is a good-sized shell. But make sure that the snail who lives inside no longer resides there before you decide to add one to your collection. It's against the law to remove live shells on Sanibel, and, trust me, you don't want to deal with a dying mollusk.
My favorite shell this week is the Jingle, more formally known as the Anomia Simplex, a bivalve like an oyster or a clam, that's got a shiny, translucent, papery look. It's disheartening to learn that the captivating shell you found on the beach is just a common thing, easily found, nothing very special.
But I picked this one during a sunset walk after the storm that didn't bring the dreaded surge but, instead, reshaped our beach with shells. A rare find.
For insight into all the shells on Sanibel Island, check out Pam Rambo's lovely blog.
