Nautical twilight, from my kitchen window.

Sorry; I've been a bit under the weather this last week. A pity, because the weather has been wonderful, and I'm not out in it. 

Here's the first light that reached me Monday morning, from my window, at 7 AM. At 7, we were still in Nautical Twilight; the sun was more than 6° below the horizon. (That's assuming that the horizon is at sea level; here, of course, the light has to jump over the hills across the way besides.) Civil Twilight started at 7:08. Sunrise was at 7:41

House plants inside, cosmos, still blooming, outside. And then Quadra Island, across the channel.

I should be back on track by tonight.

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Lo siento; he tenido que descansar esta semana pasada. Una lástima, porque el clima ha sido muy bueno, asoleado y fresco a la vez, y no he podido aprovecharlo.

Esta es la primera luz del dia que tocó mi ventana el lunes, a las 7 de la mañana. A esa hora, seguíamos en crepúsculo matutino náutico, o sea, el sol estaba a más de 6° bajo el horizonte (eso si el horizonte fuera a nivel de mar; aquí tiene que saltar sobre los cerros). El crepúsculo civil empezaba a las 7 con 8 minutos, y el sol por fin aparecía después de las 7 con 41 minutos.

Foto: la vista desde mi ventana. Plantas domésticas adentro, y el cosmos, todavía produciendo flores, afuera. Y en la distancia, la isla Quadra.

Glimmerings

I've been taking a short break. I'm totally disheartened by the news, local, Canada-wide, and international. The spread of Covid and long Covid, so-called truckers' convoys aiming at bringing down the government (one starting from my town), ongoing climate change, and threatened wars, with very few glimmerings of light to be seen.

It would be nice to be a trapdoor spider. Dig a hole, line it with silk, make a door and pull it tight shut. Not possible. Even trapdoor spiders have to live in this world.

Maybe the opposite tactic would work. Open eyes, look at sea and sky and light.

Ahhh!

And tomorrow sunrise is at 7:35 AM. Glimmerings of light.

A Skywatch post.

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He estado descansando un poco, dejando el blog por unos dias. Estoy tan desanimada por las noticias, tanto locales como en todo Canadá, e internacionales. El Covid, su aumento y el Covid-largo, las llamadas protestas de camioneros tratando de tumbar el gobierno (un convoy hasta salió de mi pueblo), el cambio climático que no deja de aumentar, la amenaza de guerra internacional ... Y no se ven muchas chispas de luz en todo eso.

Quisiera ser, tal vez, una araña terafosa: hacerme un hoyo, forrarlo de seda, construir una puerta y cerrarla contra el mundo. No es posible. Hasta las arañas tienen que vivir en este mundo.

O mejor, tomo el sendero opuesto: abrir los ojos y mirar el cielo, las nubes, el mar, la luz que ilumina todo.

Foto: cielo y mar y en la distancia, mi pequeña ciudad.

Y mañana, el sol aparece a las 7:35. ¡Más luz!

Yawn and stretch.

 I just slept for almost two days straight. I'm not sure if it's a side effect of the vaccine, or of a sudden drop in my stress levels. Either way, I'm awake now. Back to work; aquarium chores first, cat games next, then back to the blog.

For now, have a whelk.

Wrinkled dogwinkle, dog whelk, Nucella lamellosa, eating a young oyster.

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Acabo de despertar después de dos dias de dormir. No sé si eso fue a raiz de los efectos de la vacuna, o por la baja repentina de estrés. Sea lo que sea, ya desperté. Y a trabajar: primero, el cuidado del acuario, luego jugar con la gata, y luego regreso al blog.

Por ahora, aquí está un caracol marino, una bocina comiéndose un ostión juvenil.

Friendly harbour seal

It's been two weeks since I posted here; an unplanned break, partly due to health issues (nothing to worry about; an old injury flaring up and ruining my days, keeping me awake nights. It will pass.) And just plain discouragement. Sometimes it feels wrong to celebrate the beauty and immense variety of the world around us while it I watch it go down in fear and flames. As if I hadn't noticed. But I have, and I'm grieving.

But. Quitting never accomplished anything. And all may not be lost. Maybe.

Today a towhee came and pearched in the pear tree for a while, and a hummingbird hovered around the feeder. And I moved furniture and discovered three (3!) spiders and a sowbug, after weeks of never seeing any little beasties. I went down to the shore, and the cormorants were parked on their rock in the watery sunlight; the trees were stark against a pearly sky, and the water shimmered. Life goes on, and it is good.

So I'm back, in time for Christmas.

I went to get fresh sea water for my tank, at the closest boat launch. It is two long docks enclosed in a breakwater of huge rocks. In the circle, the water was calm, although just outside, the changing tide was making waves. As I carried my buckets down to the end of the dock, a harbour seal popped his head up to look at me. I froze, and he went down, came up a bit closer, ducked under again, and came right up to within a couple of metres away to get a good look at me.

At a distance.

I could almost touch him.

But something was wrong. His right eye was closed. Mostly, when he came up to look at me again, he turned the left side towards me. He kept ducking down, coming up again, on one side of the dock, then the other, always watching me.

With half his head underwater, he has a very doggy look about him, like the lab next door.

A family came in in their boat, and the seal went down. I collected my water and loaded it into the car. When I looked back, the family was still getting their stuff out of the boat, but the seal was back, watching them.

I mentioned this to one of the men. He said, "He's hoping you have food for him." I gathered from this that the seal is a regular. And fisherfolk come in here, gut and behead their fish, and dump the heads into the water. A good reason to hang around if your eyesight isn't all that great for underwater hunting.

I went down to the dock again. The seal came back to look me over.

Here, he gives me a look at his damaged eye. And his front flippers, constantly in motion.

Underwater, beside the dock.

It looks like the eye opens slightly underwater. Not all the way, but the white and a bit of the iris show up. The other one looks brown underwater; above, it looks black.

View as he goes under the dock under my feet. Hind flippers and coat pattern.

Another loop, speeding this time. Nice whiskers!

I watched for a while, then said goodbye. As I got into my car, up on the approach, I looked back. He was sitting up in the water close to the shore, with his neck stretched tall, watching me.

I wished I were a fisher, so I could bring him a fish.

View of the outer dock and the breakwater, while the seal waited for the fisherpeople to drag their boat out of the water. You can see him there; two lumps. He's just resting, waiting.

Apples and a break

Apples at Oyster Bay. On a tree without tent caterpillars.

And still out of reach.

I've been busy this week, sitting at home pounding away at my keyboard, and have a pile of non-blog photos to deal with and camera manuals to study. I'll be taking a few days off from the blog. Back soon!

Too much

Sick at heart ...

Watching the news from the US. More school shootings. The ongoing tearing down of democracy. Abortion bills. Miscarriage bills! With an ectopic pregnancy rider. While children still cry in prison camps. Kindergarten active shooter drills. Health care - what little there was of it for all but the rich - erosion. Measles and whooping cough roaring back.

The daffodils bloom outside my door. The mock orange is covered with buds. The birds are singing.

It's no help. Not while children die. Not while a million species are at risk of extinction. Not while we spew poisons into our air and water.

I look at my photos - blue water, blue sky, blue butterflies, yellow-green spring leaves - and scroll away. I can't celebrate those, not for now. Later; it's important to document the beauty and mystery around us, even if much of it is doomed to be lost. Maybe because it is doomed.

I'm taking a short break. I'll be watching my tank, where the residents go about their happy little lives, oblivious to the struggling world beyond their walls. Watch the tank and hope for sanity somewhere, somehow.

Hermits teasing the pink-tipped green anemone.

Offline

My Internet connection is down since yesterday morning. I'll be back as soon as possible.

I'm posting from the public library, on my tablet, so no photos are available.

Very frustrating!

It's a wrap

I've been doing too much. Hurrying here and there, driving back and forth, to and fro; supper time caught up to me, and I stopped at MacDonald's for a wrap and a coffee to go.

The best part of the meal, Chia says, was the bag.

Lurking

A few more errands to run, a to-do list to check off, and I'm heading south again. I'll be away from the computer until the end of the week.

Normal life, and blogging, will resume on Saturday.

It's summer, after all.

I'm back from Tahsis: an amazing trip, with intriguing plants and mushrooms, wonderful scenery, and many stories to share. And now I have unexpected company for the next four days. We're going low-tide beachcombing in the morning.

So I'll probably not be blogging until Monday.

For now, have an apple. And a bit of lichen.

Ripening apples, Oyster Bay Shoreline Park.

See you next week!

Into the wild blue yonder

I've gone to Mexico for a week. I'm meeting my son, who I haven't seen for at least 17 years, in Mazatlan. I've been totally packed and chewing my nails for three days already.

I'm travelling light, not taking the computer, so I'll probably not be posting until I get back, unless I find a handy internet cafe in Mazatlan.

By the time this is posted, I'll be on my way to the airport in Vancouver, and I'll be back Wednesday, the 6th of April, in time for the spring low tides on our beaches.

Air Nootka float plane, Gold River. I remember flying into Gold River in the 1950s in one of these.

(This trip, the planes will be much, much, much bigger. And not nearly as much fun.)

Heading north

In a few hours, I'll be on the road, seeing the traffic and smoke of the Lower Mainland fade away behind me. Hope, the Coquihalla, Nicola Valley, Spences Bridge, Cache Creek, Lac LaHache, Bull Canyon, Kleena Kleene, Tatla, Caribou Flats ... the names call to me; I must go. I'll be ending up, eventually, in Bella Coola for a few days, then turn towards home again; the names in reverse.

Crossing the Chilcotin. Photo from 2010.

A flattish spot on the Bella Coola hill. 2010, with smoke.

Part of the time, I'll be camping, with no access to the internet, or, in places, even to a cell-phone signal. I'll log in here when I can, store photos and stories when I can't. And I'll be back the first of September, in plenty of time for Rock Flipping Day.

When I pulled my suitcase out of its storage space, it tore the spider web it was attached to, and the owner came out to complain.

"Hey! That was my house! I built it with my own spinnerets!"

Yes. It's about time I got moving.

Taking a break

I'll be taking a semi-break from the blog for a few days, maybe a couple of weeks. Laurie has been sick for some time, and has ended up in hospital, so I'll be either too busy or too tired, or both, to post every day for a while.

Laurie on his favourite beach, January, 2013. Boundary Bay.

They've found his problem and are working on a fix. We'll be back on the beach before spring.

Gate-post snail

"Well, I'm back." (As Samwise Hamfast said, with more reason, having actually been gone and returned.) Ready to start blogging again, anyhow.

I feel sort of like this gate-post snail:

"Is it safe to come out yet?"

The crab, in a fit of landscaping enthusiasm, hammered the snail point down into the sand like a gate-post in the crab's front yard. A poor choice of construction materials: once work had stopped for the day, the gatepost woke up, peered around, then stretched and twisted until he could grab the shell next to him, uprooted himself, and slid away.

Two-dimensional gluttons

It's flatworm season; every rock near the high tide line in Boundary Bay is hiding a few, plus their eggs. And tonight I found three babies in my tank. And a bunch of empty limpet shells. Baby flatworms are hungry!

"Hmmm! Looks like a tasty snail!"

Two skinny flatworms, several skinny smears of flatworm eggs, and a fat roll of bubble shell snail eggs.

And I've got a flatworm story to tell, as soon as I can. (I'm still, supposedly, on a break from blogging. But medical procedures are all hurry, hurry, hurry ... wait. Today, I'm waiting. Tomorrow I hurry.)

Moss on a wall

In Burns Bog.

I'll be taking a short semi-break from blogging for a week or two while I deal with some medical issues. (Nothing to worry about.) I may post a few photos when I find time.

Distant peeps

At Mud Bay . . .

Coming in for a landing by a mud bank

And a moment later, they were just specks in the shadow.

(Dental surgery in the morning; taking a day off from the blog, I think.)

Belated Hallowe'en pic

Seen in Beach Grove, November 1st:

Some days, I can relate.

A busy week ahead; I'm up to my ears in appointments, visitors, errands; mostly good, some very good. I may disappear for a day or two.

Shoes and feathers

Our family party season has begun; we have birthdays coming up regularly from now till September. The second in the series, this afternoon, involved 19 very happy, extremely energetic, third grade kids who only stopped shouting and singing and playing the piano to eat. Blessed (relative) quiet!

Abandoned mask, after the dress-up session.

Some of the shoes.

"Nest" with chocolate eggs for the treasure hunt.

I am tired. And there are more festivities tomorrow. I'll take a break here, until Monday, I think.

Christmas past

Not long past: this photo is from last year, at Central City mall, Surrey.

A clear, cold evening, just after dusk.

And tomorrow, for us, will be Christmas present, at a family get-together out in Chilliwack. I probably won't be home 'till late, weather permitting. (See Hugh for proper definition of "weather".)

See you all Sunday. And have a cheery, Solstice/Christmas weekend!

A Skywatch post.

Come into my parlour ...

...Says the spider to the fly.

"Spotty" waiting patiently in one of his three webs.

Resident fly, still uncaught after 3 days.

Poor Spotty! He tries so hard! And he's so hungry!

We've shovelled, de-rooted,manured, raked, re-planted, re-potted, laid paving stones, and set out seeds all afternoon. And tomorrow (Sunday) I'll be at a two-year-old's birthday party on the far end of the Lower Mainland in the afternoon, followed by a visit to a newborn girl even farther away. I'll probably be too exhausted to post until late Monday. See you then!