Category Archives: Hobbies
Something Fishy Going On
It looks like a dull, gray, foggy day. Most of us would be glad to be somewhere sunny, maybe with blue water instead of that dull gray stuff. But for the fly fisherman, there’s nowhere else he’d rather be just at this moment.
It looks like he could be lost in that fog, not knowing which way to go, but I don’t think he cares right now because he just had a nibble.
More than a nibble. It might be a whale. Sure the rod isn’t bent right over, but that’s just because the fish has stopped to take a breath.
Hey! Weren’t we taught never to stand up in a boat? Maybe this fish will pull the fisherman right over into the water. No worries. He’s wearing his lifejacket. It’s one of those slim ones that inflates if you hit the water.
Worst case scenario, his camera-wielding friend might have to put the camera down and go rescue his buddy.
It’s an addiction, it’s an affliction,
Spending the day on the sea.
Teasing the fish to come lie on the dish,
A wonderful dinner to be.
Sliding beneath the boat, silently there to gloat,
Lurking around in the dark,
Feeling so smug, as he snaps at a bug,
Grinning with glee like a shark.
Bug is all tangled and though it is mangled,
Now it has bitten the fish.
Spit it right out, and then thrash all about,
“If only!” The fish makes his wish.
Now who is smiling? This sport is beguiling,
Enticing the fish with a bug,
Everyone knows, why the fisherman chose
To be out here: “A tug is a drug.”
Setting the Table
These place mats are meant to help teach children how to set the table. I made this set for my nephew when he was about 5 years old. He probably already knew how to set the table, but if he inherited any of my genes, he might have had moments when he forgot what goes where.
Not only do the place mats show where the cutlery goes, but they are also an example of what the three primary colours are. To make a set of four, I had to add another colour for the fourth one. Do you know your primary colours? Which one of the set does not belong?
The Iris Girls
A gaggle of girls all named Iris,
Were worried they might catch a virus,
They huddled together
To wait out the weather,
And said, “May the sunshine inspire us.”
Iris
This is the last of my alternating flower and bird photo poems. I suppose I could call them phoems. Thank you to those who hung in there until the end. I’ll spare you now and space out my posts a little more.
I love the heat, yet here I am,
With lolling tongue stuck out,
But please don’t take offense, madame,
I’m no ill-mannered lout.
I lure the bees in with my tongue,
They pollinate my throat,
And even though I’m still so young,
My beauty is of note.
Oysters, Clams, and Phony Money
An oyster bed near the shoreline is encouraging to see. If you like oysters, be sure you’ve checked your local website for updates on any shellfish contamination that may be happening in your area.
We saw tons of oysters, but our fishing licences only allowed 12 each. That is certainly enough for a meal.
Poor Emma. She ran over these oyster shells and was soon limping along with sore feet from the rough barnacles on the shells.
After that, she preferred to run over pure sand or maybe a clam bed, both of which were easier on her feet.
I found a bit of beach money to pay for the clams and oysters. See the sand dollars below? The whiter ones were dead and sun bleached; the yellower ones were probably not feeling well; and the darker purplish brown ones (not pictured) were quite alive. I didn’t get a picture of them because I didn’t find them until later when I figured out that they were a few inches below the surface of the sand.
Emma was interested in a lot of things on the beach. This oyster was by itself, away from the rest and was covered with big barnacles. It seemed out of place here among all the clam shells.
The beach had so much driftwood washed up that it was an endless job for Emma to explore for mice and other little creatures that left their telltale scents on or under the logs.
She finally decided to tackle that big job, one log at a time.
It kept her busy all day.
So much fresh air and a tiny bit of sunshine ensured that we all slept well that night.
Flowers at the Beach
Today we spent a few hours on a nearby island beach that sees little use because it is only accessible by boat.
I was surprised to see the sandy fields blooming with tiny wildflowers.
I don’t know the names of all these flowers but the blue ones (below) look like tiny violas. I’m sure they have a proper name but I don’t know what it is. The little white flowers on the reddish stems might be saxifraga.
But this one I know. It is Oregon grape (berberis aquifolium, or holly-leaved barberry). Those yellow flowers turn into blue berries that look like a cluster of tiny grapes. I’ve read that the berries also have many health benefits, but they should be washed before eating. I’ve never enjoyed eating them raw. They are very tarty, but they make an excellent Oregon grape jelly.
Notice the dry moss all around the flowers. Even the moss has tiny blooms. The island has a rather dry climate so it makes its own unique, messy, but very pretty, flower garden.
More flowers will bloom here in the next weeks. I recognized leaves of lupins, and many other new shoots from various plants coming up from last year’s stock that has gone to seed.
Tiny but precious and ever so frail,
Bravely we bloom though the chill may prevail,
Few eyes will see us, and fewer admire,
We’ll stand courageously ’til we expire.
O is for Octopus
Octo is for the eight arms of Oscar the Octopus. That’s a lot of knitting for Christmas mittens.
Did you know that the giant Pacific octopus ( Enteroctopus dofleini) usually weighs up to 33 lbs. and has a tentacle (arm) spread of about 14 feet?
But the heaviest and largest scientifically recorded octopus of this species weighed 157 lbs. Claims have been made of even larger octopuses, but these have not been documented.
The smallest octopus (Octopus wolfi) is a tiny little fellow weighing only one gram. (It would take 454 of them to make a pound.) It is only about an inch long.
Most octopuses have a mild venom in them, but are not out to hurt people. However, the four types of blue-ringed octopuses (Hapalochlaena) can inflict a deadly bite, injecting a toxin called tetrodotoxin which can paralyze muscle and prevent breathing. If the victim of a bite from a blue-ringed octopus can get to a hospital immediately, and be kept breathing artificially, he may be able to recover within about 24 hours. Many of these blue-ringed octopuses are found near Australia.
There is so much more to know about octopuses – their relatively short lifespan, their method of defense by squirting ink. They are fascinating creatures (and so tasty to eat – sorry, Oscar).
Now to lighten your mood, here is a poem by Ogden Nash about:
The Octopus
Tell me, O Octopus, I begs,
Is those things arms, or is they legs?
I marvel at thee, Octopus,
If I were thou, I’d call me Us.
by Ogden Nash
O is for Oscar the Octopus
A Thousand Words
They say a picture is worth a thousand words. This one may not do quite a thousand, but it says a lot.
This man may or may not still be alive. The picture was taken 47 years ago. I never knew his name but he was kind enough to pose for a photo because he had his unique working outfit on.
His job was to clean the chimneys.
So what do you see (anywhere) in the photo?
Some of what I see horrifies me, so please don’t be afraid to say what you see. You won’t hurt my feelings.
I’m looking forward to hearing your observations.
A Love of Reading
When I started grade one in Canada, I couldn’t speak English, and it took a while, even after I learned the basic language, to become familiar with vocabulary beyond the day to day necessities. Reading was a chore because of this, all through elementary school, I struggled to find books that were what we now call “high-interest, low-vocabulary.”
My older sister helped solve my reading problems. She was much older than me, and had a very young family. I was a responsible girl and felt privileged to babysit for her when she and her husband went shopping for groceries on a Friday afternoon, fed me supper, and then went out to a movie. My sister didn’t pay me with money, but she paid me with a far greater treasure; she brought me a book every Friday when she came home from shopping.
I still remember that Ginny Gordon and the Lending Library was the first of many books to follow.
Below is a photo of the few books that I have left from my babysitting days. I think I might have been about eight, nine, or ten years old then, although it would be illegal now to babysit at that age, it was just family and I was very responsible. Also, it was the 1950s and a very small town. Not much danger.
These books were my start in learning to enjoy reading, and I’m happy to say that they were the beginning of a lifetime of wonderful reading experiences.
I see that you can still find Ginny Gordon and the Lending Library on Amazon for about $29.99.
In the mid-fifties, my sister paid about 69 cents for each of these books, but that might have been an hour’s wages then (I’m guessing).
My sister died about 12 years ago, but I will never forget what a wonderful person she was, and what a beautiful gift she gave me – a love of reading.
wordsfromanneli 