A new Blogger in town

I would like to suggest a fresh blogger I've found online.  I don't know that I've ever posted for anyone to go see the things I read...but this one is different.

It's a new blogger.  Fresh off the turnip truck.  He'd love comments and followers.  Go take a look...

http://intraspectiv.blogspot.com/    

Say hi to my son.  (I mean really, how can a mother not be proud of this?)

Better than a Field Trip - Marine Biology

The beach was full, absolutely full of starfish.  They were all lazing around in the sun, turning pink, waiting for the tide to come back in.  I didn't have any starfish sun screen on me.  They should have brought their own if they are going to laze about on the beach. 

I really had to watch my step.  The Sand Dollars were thick as thieves.  I have never been in the presence of so many sand dollars.  Still alive.  Living, moving purple disks, with wiggly anemone bodies.  The sand dollar beds are just below the surface of the sand.  In the first photo, just above the shadow of my personal photographer is a sand dollar bed.  I don't know if it's possible to zoom in.  If so, there are dark cresents just peeking above the sand.  Those are the edges of sand dollars.  They are at least three deep in these beds.

 I don't think I will ever feel bad about picking up sand dollars again.  They live in great harem's on top of each other, thousands thick.

Sun burnt starfish

How to dig clams for those that don't know any better

It started one February

 A friend of mine took me to the ocean up here in the great NorthWet in the middle of February one weekend.  We went on an adventure to dig for Razor Clams which are indigenous to the area.  I am smiling in the picture because I have several (as in many) layers of clothing on under the raincoat.  (Side note: the person that figured out neoprene waders has a special place in my heart.) 
 Actually, I'm smiling because this is all so new to me.  I'm smiling because I love adventure.  I'm smiling while I wait for the surf to recede so I can see if the clam is still there under my gun.  I'm smiling because my friend was laughing with me while we waited for the water to flow back out to the ocean.

I don't eat clams.  I don't like them.  One is allowed to dig 15 clams per person per day.  We dug clams for two days and came home with 60 cleaned, washed clams ready to clook up.  While I don't eat these things I sure had a great time digging.  This makes no sense to me now, in retrospect.  It was cold.  It was cold and windy.  It was cold and windy and usually dark.  It was cold and windy and dark and I didn't know any better that I can wait for summer when it is warm and windy and light.  Oh, it was cold and windy and dark and raining SIDEWAYS.  You can't see that in the picture, but I wasn't sure if I was being sand blasted or power washed.

It was just such a thrill to actually pull one of these clams up out of the sand, and it was so relatively easy and often, that both days when we reached limit I was willing to help out fellow clammers. (Like they needed it, doh)

Of course after a healthy morning outside in the surf digging clams one does well to find a cheap breakfast at the local casino and a couple Bloody Mary's to ward off any colds from being power washed by the sideways rain.  It wasn't until later that we started cleaning the clams.

 It takes several steps to get razor clams ready to eat.

 Ya gotta open 'em up and cut them along the outer edge.  And then cut again along the inner edge.  Then you get to cut away the gills.  Then rinse.  Cut out the digger and rinse that in another bucket while you cut away the gungula.  (I think that's how you spell that highly technical term referring to the intestines(?) of the clam.)  Rinse again.

And rinse and rinse and rinse.  And when you get home it is imperative that you make baked clams for the girl you take to the ocean to dig clams, even if she doesn't like clams.  And it's kind of interesting that she eats 'em because you made them.  Even more interesting is she says she'd eat 'em again too if you wanted.  They weren't so bad.

Reprise:  Several weekends later (months?) she is stealing the manila clams the two of you dug up on a north shore out of your bowl to eat them before you do.

Thousands of Miles

I stood this evening with a pair of binoculars staring at the moon. These were very nice binoculars. Each eye piece focuses independently. When I had taken my time to focus the binoculars as well as I could I stood in the doorway with the binoculars to my eyes staring at the moon. The moon craters and some topography seemed fairly apparent. How can this be? The moon is thousands of miles away...thousands. How far can one really see? And why are we unable to see further? There is something out there that can see farther than I can. The binoculars prove that our eyes are not working as well as eyes somewhere else. Who has eyes that strong, and more? It seems we should be able to see this far, see this well on our own - without binoculars, or contact lenses. But then, why can't we see the nose on our face?

Rejoice

I live a good life. I say that in thanks and in awe. I am blessed. I don't know how it happened but I am. It's been that way all along and only in the last ten years have I been brought to overwhelming humility of having a good life. There is no thank you to the great universal love encompassing enough to include waking, sleeping, friends, family ,connections, taste, the smell of bacon, the art of walking. My debt of gratitude is a blessing in and of itself. When did my life become so precious and fulfilling? And yet, when wasn't it? I am overwhelmed again by the richness of living. Just being here is an amazing feat, unheard of in timid crowds. Am I so bold as to live? Oh hell yes...oh what joy. Rejoice with me and for your own incredible, unduplicated lives. We live. How amazing is that?