Good travellers

Here's how moving day went for my little community of intertidal critters. First, a new shipment of eelgrass and sea lettuce arrived, a double load; the tank was packed all the way from the surface to the sand underneath. That was fun; a wonderfully complicated labyrinth to play on for a couple of days.

Then, the water disappeared. Like water-changing day, except that the hermits weren't transferred to a bowl and given treats of shrimp or fish. And the water didn't come back. But the eelgrass and sea lettuce were still wet, so that helped.

And then things got weird. For half a day, there was a constant rumble and vibration, frequent joltings and sloshings of wet sand. And they couldn't see anything; someone had covered their home with a dark green roof. (Just a towel, to keep the ice packs in place and the road pollution out.)

And then, light! The roof came off, there was a bit more jolting and tipping, and then the blessed water came back.

And all was well.

A few minutes later, as I was adjusting the pump, a hermit came to the front of the tank, and stood looking at me for a long time.

"Is it over? Are you going to take care of us again?'

And then, as if reassured, he turned and went looking for something to eat.

And all survived the journey, and seem to be happier here. Maybe it's the water; although I filtered the Lower Mainland water, let it sit a few days, and then added a chlorine remover, it still may have been slightly off. Campbell River water actually tastes good.

I worry about the lone sand dollar; they so often die early in the tank, or maybe it's because I pick them up from the sand while they are already dying. This one seems ok, but was losing a few of his spines. Now, he's out and around, roaming, spines going busily, pushing him on his way. This afternoon, I saw him climbing over a discarded snail shell; I didn't know they could do that!

And two of the leafy hornmouth snails spent this afternoon mating. Life is good, they say, "Let's make babies!"

Previous tenant

Well, I'm here in Campbell River, half unpacked, sort of settled in. My name is on the lease, but I've met a few long-term residents who disapproved of the extra company. This big guy had laid claim to the hall closet.

He's about an inch and a half long, toe to toe.

I let him be, but installed a light, and went about loading jackets and brooms and odds and ends that don't have a home yet, and by the next morning, he'd gone in search of quieter rooms. Just as well; I didn't really want to find him in the pocket of a jacket one day.

Mini-selfie

Hawkweed and stripy fly. Beach Grove:

And the mini-selfie, with camera, on the fly's back.

Everything's packed and lined up at the door, ready for the truck, Except the computer, my breakfast, and my toothbrush. And the tank. Shutting down the computer in a few minutes. Tomorrow, the ferry and Campbell River!

Hairy!

Unidentified plant, near Heckman Pass. 5000 ft.:

Do you recognize this?

One more day to go. Tomorrow I'll pack up my desk and computer, and then probably be off-line until Friday. See you then!

Decorator spider

Years ago, I was given the smokestack of a foundered tugboat, all that was worth salvaging, it seemed. It has served me variously as a "conversation piece", as a flower pot, with tendrils of bacopa hanging out of the mouth like smoke in a downdraft, and, more recently, as a dry spot to store recycled garden bags.

It had been painted in successive coats of marine orange, red, and green. In recent years, the paint has been dropping off in chunks, layer by layer.

Old photo of morning light on my wall, with half the smokestack.

I'm almost finished packing; we're loading the truck two mornings from now. I brought in the smokestack to clean off the dust and bugs, ready for transport. When I up-ended it to see if any plastic bags were still stuck half-way down, I found, instead, a fat spider and a web across the entire width of the smokestack, and loaded with paint chips, orange, red, and green.

Spider and her paint chips.. Maybe she's planning a re-decorating job?

"Hmmm. Green is good, but red looks warmer, and winter's coming. Or would orange be better? Decisions, decisions ..."

I dusted the outside of the smokestack, but I left Ma Spider and her paint chips alone.

Update: She's a Steatoda grossa. Thanks, people!

Farewell party?

My aquarium critters needed eelgrass. Lots of eelgrass. I'm going to take them, tank and all, on a 5 hour trip, probably bumpy at times, and they'll have to leave most of their water behind. Several gallons of water sloshing back and forth unpredictably can cause quite a bit of damage, so I'll leave them an inch or so, and pack the tank with wet eelgrass. The anemones and snails will hide under the sand, and the hermits will cling to the eelgrass, and all will be well. I hope.

Very tiny hermit, climbing the eelgrass.

Down at Boundary Bay, I found everything all laid out for me; piles of fresh eelgrass, with roots and the diatom fuzz the hermits love, big sheets of sea lettuce, even a fresh holdfast, just the right size for the tank. The wind and tide had been working in my favour; the tide was high and still coming in, and the wind had whipped the waves into a froth. Together, they'd dug up an eelgrass bed from the lower intertidal zone and deposited it, still fresh and barely tangled, at the water line for me.

My hermits are happy.

So were the wind surfers.

I had another item on my shopping list: I wanted photos of spiders for the Arachtober group. So I poked around the fences and alleys of Beach Grove, peering into cracks and under shrubs. (The residents there are very tolerant; mostly they smile. One man told me there were many wolf spiders along his fence. I didn't find any.)

I found, first, a couple of abandoned paper wasp nests.

Look at this (click) full size to see the texture of the paper.

And yes, I found two spiders.

Large cross spider.

These get their name from the cross shape (sort of) on their abdomen. The scientific name is Araneus diadematus, meaning "crown spider", which doesn't sound quite right. I don't see a crown. This one looks more like a Christmas tree, all decorated. The ones here in North Delta are mostly orange and brown; both the Beach Grove spiders were brown and grey.

And then I drove home, saying, "Goodbye, see you later," to all the old favourite landmarks on the way. Next week at this time, I'll be on the Island.

Morning light

9 more days. I'm sure I'm ready to go, but at the same time, I'm totally sure I've forgotten something essential. I can somehow manage to believe two opposite things at the same time, but I'm chewing my nails over it.

Remembering an early morning at the rest area looking over Pinto Lake in the Chilcotin calms me. The whispering silence! The air; pine-scented, fresh and clean, with just a hint, a remembrance of road dust! The slight chill in the shadows, and the gentle warmth of the early sun! The road ahead, the road back; been there, going to go there, and it will all be good! Ah!

Morning sunlight on birch

There will be more mornings like this. And sunny afternoons. And sunsets over Georgia Strait. Yes, the road ahead looks good.

9 more days and I'll be on the ferry.

Study in browns

Western conifer seed bug on Bosc pear.

He loved the pear; kept walking around and around it.

10 more days. This time the 15th, I'll be settling into Campbell River. I'm packed and ready; what's going to be difficult is moving my little aquarium, critters and all, without stressing them. I'll discuss my preparations for this in a day or so.

Needles and cotton puffs

On the sidehills of the Nicola Valley.

Ponderosa Pine, aka Blackjack pine, but only when it's young. The bark turns orange as it ages.

I'll probably be blogging less frequently for the next few weeks. I'm busy packing up, getting ready to move to Campbell River, where I've found a place a couple of blocks from the pier and the highway to all the amazing beaches. And all those critters! I'll have lots to show you then, so don't go away.

A Skywatch post.

A working Mother's Day

We have spent the weekend carrying Laurie's books, bookcases and display cabinets (for antiques and Laurie's carvings) downstairs and setting them up again. The antiques were already down here, packed in boxes that take up a third of my bedroom. They'll get unpacked gradually, over the next few weeks.

The books: sci-fi, history, science, philosophy, art, classics, poetry ... All read, some re-read. Books come, books go, resold or lent or passed on, but the total stays more or less the same; somewhere around 4000. That's a lot of books! It will take us weeks to get them all unpacked and on their proper shelves.

(Here's a (copyrighted) photo of an art installation using 4000 books. 13 feet by 7 1/2 feet by the height of a book. Some of Laurie's art books and dictionaries were quite a bit bigger.)

We had help; willing kids and grandkids, plus two great grandkids to provide entertainment throughout. I couldn't ask for a better Mother's Day gift!

I'll be back to regular blogging tomorrow.