Tag Archives: crab

tidepool immersion~blue inside

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(The photo above is from a different beach I visited on a grayer, less photogenic day, save for these colorful anemones.

All that follow are from a single tidepooling trip.)

 

On my recent tidepool walk, I found a fish lying on the sand. A large sculpin? I picked it up to take a picture (as one does). In my hand, its body shifted so that its mouth dropped open and I gazed into a gaping chasm of blue! Its mouth is blue?! Simultaneously, its opercula opened, closed, gasping. It was still alive!

 

I snapped quick photos and rushed it into the water. It lay on the bottom, letting water pour across its gills, brown lumpy body camouflaging its secret bright interior. At home, I looked it up: a cabezon, part of the true sculpin family, a rocky intertidal dweller who feeds on crabs, fish, and mollusks. In its blue inner realm – not just mouth, but also flesh and internal organs – tiny abalone shells are said to become brightly polished in its digestive acids. The cabezon spawns on rocks, where its eggs, poisonous for consumption, can disperse up to 200 miles from shore, drifting as embryos divide, develop, hatch into wiggling larvae, absorb their yolk sacs. Arriving back in their tidepool spawning ground as fry, they hunt and grow into adults who lurk in the kelp beds.

 

I walked to the farthest extent of the beach one can access, and then only on these lowest low tides. Actually, I stopped short of the farthest tippy tidepool at the end once I spotted hauled out seals, and ceased approaching. Took zoom lens photos of baby seals raising their heads and rear flippers like they were rehearsing their swim, strengthening their core muscles.

Discodoris sighting! aka Diaulula sandiegensis from family Discodorididae

I chose fishing line as my genre of litter to collect on this day, filled my pockets.  Stepped across a vein of something agatized or fossilized. Made by pressure, revealed by water, without having to dig.  The smooth light gray rock erodes pockets and dimples. The small black cobbles collect inside. On the farthest stretch, the crabs are less accustomed to having to hide from hikers, and they plop and tumble into tidepools, scuttle and skitter under eelgrass clumps.

 

Otter is the name of the beach I wandered, though the last known individual sea otter swimming in Oregon waters was shot off Newport in 1907. Locally extinct ever since, they no longer exert control over sea urchins, which can overgraze the kelp holding down the base of this ecosystem.

Other species help in the role of maintaining kelp forests, though none to the extent that otters once did. I leaned over every edge of every farthest shelf of rock on this day, hoping and wishing to see a sunflower star.

(Like the one Quinn is touching here in 2010.)

(Or this pair from 2011.)

But sunflower stars have reached critically endangered status as of December 2020, failing to make a comeback from sea star wasting disease. Locally extinct now in the southern part of its range (zero Mexico or California sightings since 2018), sightings in Oregon are now vanishingly rare. I have not been able to find one.

I did see a leather star, though, between meals of anemones. A number of purple and ochre sea stars wrapped around mussels. Some species are making a halting comeback, others not. They will pull on the threads that connect them to other species until a new equilibrium is reached.

 

Maybe it’s because I’ve just finished reading Into Great Silence, a memoir written by a woman who studied the Chugach transient orca pod in Prince William Sound, a diminishing group that has not reproduced since the Exxon Valdez emptied oil into the sound in 1989. There are now just seven individuals. Maybe it’s because the author, Eva Saulitis, included a quote from the poem The Last One by W.S. Merwin, so I read the rest of the poem. I think a lot about these last ones, the impossibly lonely condition of being a last one, that so many species are facing. And then the one is gone, and there are none. Maybe it’s because I felt like I discovered a kindred spirit in Eva as I read her book, and know that she, too, is gone. Or maybe I’m a cabezon. I’m just a little blue on the inside, too.

 

 

~rainbow mondays~ smolder

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“How many fears came between us?

Earthquakes, diseases, wars where hell

rained smoldering pus

from skies made of winged death.

Horror tore this world asunder.

While inside the bleeding smoke

and beyond the shredded weeping flesh

we memorized tales of infinite good.”

~Aberjhani

 

~rainbow mondays~

a splash of color on monday morning

a photo study documenting the colors of the spectrum: the balance points between light reflected and light absorbed

~rainbow mondays~ float

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~rainbow mondays~

a splash of color on monday morning

a photo study documenting the colors of the spectrum: the balance points between light reflected and light absorbed

~rainbow mondays~ raining roses

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I gotta get out of bed and get a hammer and a nail
Learn how to use my hands, not just my head
I think myself into jail
Now I know a refuge never grows
From a chin in a hand in a thoughtful pose
Gotta tend the earth if you want a rose

~Emily Saliers (Indigo Girls)

 

~rainbow mondays~

a splash of color on monday morning

a photo study documenting the colors of the spectrum: the balance points between light reflected and light absorbed

encouragement from crab

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i was tagged in a facebook post by a woman whose friend is having surgery for breast cancer, with a request for sending love and encouragement from one woman to another, so her friend would arrive home to a pile of cards and well wishes. it is easy to ignore such a post, because i think it makes us face our own fears, and what do you even say anyway, and then there is the fact that i don’t even know this woman.

but i do know her on some level, don’t i?

aside from the fact that she is a friend of a friend, we’re all one, when it comes right down to it. so i decided to snail mail it up, sent her a mix cd, a buoy quote in a card that i printed, and some beach sand in a film canister. it felt nice to share, and it prompted me to do a teensy amount of writing as well, which i will also share here, in case anyone else can use some encouragement today.

this crab jumped out of the card pile to come to you and i figured out why. cancer and crab are written together in the stars, but i see another layer of meaning. crab wears protective armor on the outside, and follows the moons and tides just the way all of us women do in the salt water cycle of our blood and tears. what’s inside is vulnerable and soft, but crab is tenacious, knowing how to hold on, clinging to rocks as challenging waves wash over, knowing when the best way forward is sideways. crab intuits what needs to be shed, and though it can be extremely vulnerable when it is exposed, it replaces its armor, a little bit stronger each time, taking what it needs to rebuild it from the healing waters of the ocean surrounding it.

i wanted to send you a little beach sand and ocean healing magic, from one woman to another.

a month of unschool

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~praying mantis found and studied, released in our garden on the squash plant as it was glowing in the afternoon sunshine~

~finished up our farmer’s market season… reflecting back on how much of a helper quinn was this year, compared to the last two. he took on a few jobs that he really enjoyed, such as attaching the bungee cords to secure our weights to our canopy legs (lest our tent blow away in the maritime breeze), and setting up the driftwood blocks into fairy houses, crab docks, and bridges, to show how they “work.” ~ learning to put on a belt was motivated by needing a place to sheath his sword, which recently acquired a name, sting.~

~which, of course, derives from reading the hobbit this month, very exciting! ~ drawing is back in style- quinn ebbs and flows with his artwork, and right now he is flowing.

~new shoes were needed, and since the purple ones with sparkles weren’t available in his size (his first choice!) we decided to sparkle up some plain black chucks~

~speaking of shoes… shoelaces! you are pretty close to tying those bunny ears, and did it once on your new marker case that we sewed  out of fabric (first skinny markers!)~ and mushroom hunting, and outing we did this month with dada. you brought your spear on the mushroom hunt, just in case.~

~hiking in beaver creek a few times: tracks, leaf boats, woolly bear caterpillars everywhere… and almost always a stick in his hand~

~crabbing again! twice this month, though the first time we caught one keeper, and the second time, none: end of the season for now~

~a special auntie sent a hand knit crab which is dearly loved already (crab being one of his spirit helpers, and all…)~ tuna canning helper labeled each and every jar i put up (somewhere around 20!)~

~music was played~marble tracks were built and ad libbed~tinker toys became sun gods~

~helped me dip all of our (first ever for both of us) fried green tomatoes… yum!~ and having lots of input on food these days, both helping in the kitchen and becoming very specific in requests for certain foods (“i’d like a hot dog, some ketchup, some ranch, a plate and a fork” or “can i have twelve cheese sticks and a bowl of applesauce?”)~ we paid a visit to the new pirate ship playground in town~

 

~as always, time was spent in the garden~ digging potatoes~ harvesting popcorn, shelling dry beans, hanging up sunflower heads to dry~  first artichoke, first brussels sprouts, for quinn i believe they were his first tastes of both, as well as being the first time of growing them for both of us~

i’m so happy to see stacy at sweet sky joining in with her own month of unschool! i am sporadic about the exact date of when i post mine, so it may never be the “this moment” of unschooling or anything ;), but i do love to see others’ unschool ideas and happenings, and would love for anyone interested to leave a link for others to enjoy.

gradual milestones

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there is a so much right now… it’s overwhelmingly sweet and poignant and heart-wrenching and growth-promoting… i leave on a 10-day research cruise in less than two weeks, and finally was able to start that conversation with quinn, after much hemming and hawing and stalling on my part.

it was pushing 9:30 sunday night. since there is lot of daylight right now i’m doing as much as i can to not turn on lights, and enjoying the feel of it grow darker by imperceptible amounts and then realizing i’m having trouble seeing what i’m reading. then i stop reading and do whatever i need to do to get ready for bed for the most part without turning on any lights, then fall asleep.  in addition to being right up my permaculture obsessed alley, it is helping me get to sleep well (though at 3am i am likely to be obsessing about sunchokes. i need to get some planted asap!) we arrived home to the dark house and snuggled up on the couch in the almost darkness, and i asked if i could talk to him about something. “you know how i told you i’d be going on a boat for a few days?” i explained in more detail how it would be ten days, and all the ins and outs. i’m getting on the boat in washington, but will be coming into newport on the boat so he will be able to see me and my boat come right up to the dock. (coparent can walk him there from his place if i text when we get close enough to shore for texting.) quinn got very quiet then he got a little quiver in his voice and sat up straight on my lap (he had been snuggled up against me) and said, “well, can i come on the boat too?” oh god. the agony. the poor kid. i mean i not only feel bad leaving him, but it’s like his favorite dream ever to go on a boat and here i’m going and doing the super funnest thing ever (in his mind) without him. so i explain no we’re going too far offshore, where the waves are too bumpy for little people, and we have to do a lot of work with heavy equipment that’s not safe, etc. “well, maybe i could take a nap down in the cabin?” OH MY GOD my throat hurt so badly, listening to his problem solving little self find potential solutions. sigh…. pretty soon he was just saying “don’t go on a boat, mama!” and we both cried a little bit and i told him i would miss him so much. he asked a lot of stuff like why did i have to go on the boat for work, and then finally told me “when i’m 20, maybe you can go on a boat again and i can go with you because i’ll be 20 and i can catch some salmon and do work on them with you too.”

resolved.

20 is a magic number, when he’s 20 he figures he’ll be able to do all the stuff he wants to do but can’t yet because he’s too little. it sucks being little sometimes.

so then i figured while i was at it, i’d talk to him a little about saying bye bye to the milks. we’ve only brushed up against the subject a few brief times, and usually he just deflects and says he is never going to be done having mama milk. i mostly just drop it at that point. rachel at 6512 and growing posted a photo of her four year old and a cake with icing saying “goodbye milky” on it was an aha moment for me, a way to help him with the transition- we’ll have a bye bye milks party! so i have been rolling that idea around, and sunday night i was trying to explain that it’s up to him when we stop, but that there might not be much milk when i come back from the boat, and did he want to stop before i leave on the boat, or did he want to be able to try having mama milk again when i come back. he was so visibly upset when i suggested stopping when i leave, and got immediately calm again when i suggested he’d be able to have milk when i come back. so that’s that. he requested, “can you do something while you’re on the boat to make it so the milk doesn’t get old in there?” i think he’s worried it’ll go sour. aww. then i brought up that maybe when he says bye bye to the milks for good, that we could have a party and make a cake. and he lit up. he still didn’t want to do it before i leave on the boat, but sometime after i come back… now he is maybe sort of looking forward to it at least. he told me he will “bring some guys” (invite some people) and his cake will have “melted chocolate on top and white on the bottom” and i asked if i should have carmen make it for him or should we make it and he said we should make it (awwww. carmen makes amazing sweets next door to us at the farmer’s market, so that boosted my sugar-free whole wheat ego big time). and he will get candles and everyone at the party will “each get to blow out a candle” and… yeah. the party idea is a hit. i’m excited! i think it will be fun. and needed. poor guy. it’s hard to say goodbye! lol.

then i talked to him about how it was when i went to seattle for three days last october, which he didn’t remember at all. i told him he had been with dada playing and having fun for the three days. how he had been so happy to see me but had run away and hid in his “nest” (where he naps at coparent’s- i think they had just built it during that 3 day period but he naps in it to this day. all coparent does is suggest a nap, he snuggles in the nest, and coparent says “go to sleep” and he does! utterly magical to a mama who has to do all kinds of gymnastics-read-backrub or just resort to the milks for naptime.) i told him how when i came into the room after seattle, he told me he didn’t want to come to me but he really wanted milk. and then he crawled onto my lap and had milk and fell right to sleep because it was time for bed. and we woke up the next day and played and had fun: resilience.

he asked me to repeat that story several times “tell me again about seattle?” we’re working through how sometimes you can have so many strong feelings of different kinds all at once, and how confusing and overwhelming and “i don’t knoowwwww!” that can be.

we also discussed all the cool things he and dada might do while i’m on the boat- paddle in the canoe, go crabbing at the crab dock in the middle of the night, etc. on that subject, the three of us are going crabbing tonight! quinn (who has me wanting to bust out crying about every 3 seconds) requested a framed picture of “me, you and dada” crabbing on the crab dock. he described exactly how he wants it to look, just like a frame i have on my table at the market with pictures of carriers in it, and “it’ll have glass in front of it and black on all four sides” in a very detailed and excited description. oh, my aching heartstrings.

wild backyard strawberries

coparent and i talked it over and he’s supportive… but he was surprised and did not understand the goodbye milk party idea. he figured moms have to get their kid to think about anything else than milk, and he can’t see how it would work having a party: isn’t he just going to think about it so much that as soon as the party is over he’ll be ready to have milk immediately? i tried to explain that my definition of it “working” might be different from his. if the worst case scenario is that we party and quinn still isn’t done…. ok! i’m completely fine with that outcome, i’m committed to this process taking as long as it takes. but if it has to be a matter of me distracting/lying/waving arms to stop him, then that to me is NOT going to “work” for us. there is no area of our lives where i operate that way with quinn, i’ve always been very straightforward with him. i discarded the advice during the baby/toddler stages to “just distract them” from the “bad” thing they want to do, because to me it felt dishonest. i always explained what i wanted quinn to do, and left him the choice to leave what he was doing that i wanted him to stop, and that way he learned about it rather than it just happening without his real consent. it takes longer in the moment but i think in the long run it saves time, and even more important than that to me was to save my integrity. extrapolating to now at age four, doing that whole distraction thing would feel wrong. (not to mention he is not easily distracted!) furthermore i dearly do NOT want him to forget milk, i am thrilled that there will be one man in the world who will remember, fondly and vividly, so the next generation has more little people in the same boat. and more… and more…. if a party helps him remember it fondly, and not as a hardship, then by ALL means let’s have a party. and if it takes him another month after that, again: so be it.

i think coparent understood after i said all that. i think quinn GETS it, that after the party we are agreeing to it being done, and that he will therefore wait to ask for the party until he is really really really ready.

he still doesn’t want to ever stop having mama milk. he still doesn’t want me to go on a boat. i still don’t want to go, for that matter. as much as another completely separate me does want to be on the ocean once again, at long last. but i’m glad we’re talking about it, i have a tendency to bottle up my angst and avoid, avoid, avoid, until it’s past the point where there’s time to process and move through this stuff. when we get there, we still won’t want to, but we will. and we’ll be ok.

so many of these milestones are so gradual and ongoing- even if there is a visible mile marker in the river of time, i will know, looking back, that he and i have been practicing for it the whole time. the whole time.