The morning after a stormy period on Lake Ontario, it is always interesting to see what has washed up with the waves. Once the wind has dropped and the water is quiet, the shore is lined with the debris of other people’s lives.

When we are out for our morning walk, the dogs keep a vigilant eye, just in case there is anything to eat. I admit I keep an eye out, too, just in case there is a treasure nestled in the sand. Years ago, my mom found an 18-carat gold ring while strolling on a beach on Lake Erie, near our cottage. She wore it for years, until one day she lost it.

So I keep my head down, just in case there is a treasure with my name on it.

Mostly, however, I find junk, reminders of our throwaway society — disposable lighters, plastic forks, battered cardboard coffee cups, plastic fast-food containers. According to my unofficial tally, Tim Hortons is winning the coffee-cup sweepstakes. Either more people take out Tim’s coffee than other brands, or the people who do are not environmentally conscious. Either way, the morning after the beach attests to Tim’s popularity.

But every once in a while, something more unusual does come along. Christmas Day 2004, we found a large — dead — iguana washed up on shore. Iguanas aren’t exactly native to Lake Ontario, so my daughter Kate and I spent a portion of our walk pondering that mystery.

Just a couple of days ago, what looked like a hand-hewn beam from an old barn had butted up to shore. I figure it was about 12 inches by 12 inches and maybe 12 feet long. I can see losing an iguana, but how do you lose a beam? Is there a barn somewhere on a far shore, leaning precariously because a rogue beam slid into the rough waters of Lake Ontario?

By far, my favourite flotsam is a huge tire. After a few days of heavy waves, we arrived one morning to find the tire — I figure it is four or five feet across and looks like it belongs on a tractor or a transport — caught in the shallows of our little bay. It had obviously ridden the waves as far as it could. And there it has sat for the winter, pushed in a little closer by the ice and at one point the centrepiece of an elaborate ice bridge manufactured by the frenzied splashing of the waves.

How does this happen? How does a giant — well, large — tire find its way to Cherry Beach? Is there a tractor on some distant shore listing to one side because its tire has gone for a ride on the waves?

Update: a few issues ago, I wrote about my godmother, Ethel, who had gone into hospital. I had bemoaned her quality of life and the fact that among her other illnesses, she was becoming confused and

didn’t recognize old and dear friends.

I am happy to report that has changed. She now knows her friends and, better yet, can joke and tease them. Her legs, which had become so swollen they were a source of constant discomfort, are now “showgirl legs,” she says. She no longer itches constantly, so she no longer takes the antihistamines that made her fall asleep mid-sentence.

So, what happened? The hospital took her off all her medications and then, one by one, reintroduced only what was necessary. It seems the combination of drugs was not good for her health.

This is a cautionary tale: all too often seniors end up with potent combinations of medicines, whose interactions are unintended. If you have a loved one or a client who appears to be losing it, before you lose heart, check the medications.

Tessa Wilmott, Editor-in-Chief