Tag: Life

The interior static continues

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 2 Comments

Ten more random notes in no particular order:

  1. The “award-winning” writer or actor or whatever is such a cliché anymore I will assume everyone’s won prizes. It’s the ones with money that count.
  2. Jail visitation makes the inmates feel safe, gives them respect.
  3. A surprise way to increase your wealth. Hit square on the calculator! Beats the interest multiplier for sure. Could this be the secret of cryptocurrency?
  4. I see she’s moved back to Allentown from Rhode Island.
  5. Cops at the coffee shop. What an iconic image.
  6. Playing cards were invented during the reign of Tudor king Henry VII (1485-1509) and his wife, Elizabeth of York. Their portraits have appeared eight times on every deck ever since.
  7. New leap for storing leeks through the winter: peat moss! Rather than hay or straw or sand.
  8. Overhead light in the car interior … not just replacing a bulb anymore …
  9. The blue haze in the forests that gives the Great Smoky Moutains their name is actually a fog released by volatile organic compounds in the region’s vegetation.
  10. Marden’s Surplus & Salvage has 14 locations in Maine. As for Remy’s?

 

Did I hit a moose way back when?

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

It was dark and very cold that night, with snow piled high along the freeway.

Now that I’m getting familiar with deer, I realize that the critter I nicked with the right fender was much larger than any of the deer I see these days. They seem rather small, actually, apart from their appetites.

Still, that encounter could have been much worse. I have to consider myself quite lucky. A few feet one way or the other, the beast could have come crashing through my windshield.

Just one more fact of living where I do.

Urban deer, oh dear

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

Eastport – centered on Moose Island – is one of many small cities being overrun by deer. You may have met some of the culprits here at the Red Barn.

Here are some random bits as a result.

  1. In the Wampanoag language, they’re known as “the ones with wet noses,” for the way they investigate the world around them.
  2. Why do fawns have white spots? I suspect it could be a good opportunity for a storyteller to develop. Along with the question of why fawns eventually lose them.
  3. They like apples. Man, do they. Some will dance on their hind legs in reaching for the branch overhead.
  4. They can destroy a garden overnight.
  5. That said, they’ll eat just about anything. One even swallowed a spigot on our bird feeder.
  6. Speaking of which, a bit of cayenne pepper in the feeder seems to repel them. As the adage goes, better late than never, regarding some lessons.
  7. They’ll eat out of your hand if you’re patient. Not that I advise that.
  8. Bucks get bumped out of the circle as they come of age.
  9. The most we’ve counted in our small yard at one time was ten.
  10. We’ve had an albino in the north end of town. I first thought it was a goat in the night.
Here’s a shot from our dining table. Or hers, as well.

Now for our storm door out front

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

Are you ever caught up when you own an old house? Or is it like a personal sailboat, where you pour copious amount of money into a hole in the ground or the water?

The latest item to join our home maintenance to-do list is the front storm door, which detached from the frame a few weeks ago. It was too heavy and awkward to go back in, and apparently some shifting had warped the angles. It hadn’t been closing completely, and the last time I tried, bingo! We were in trouble.

It wound up, as I said, coming off altogether.

Oops!

We do want to get that fixed before winter hits, though. The front door itself is rather leaky.

Yet part of me is thinking maybe that can wait till I’m dead.

Damn, I do miss being able to call maintenance back when I was living on Yuppieville on the Hill. Back before I so deliriously remarried.

One commute I can’t complain about

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

Some Sunday mornings, my drive to and from the Quaker meetinghouse a half-hour from my home is a meditation in its own right.

Even in fog or snow, it can be refreshing.

Much of the road is through forest, plus stretches along Passamaquoddy and Cobscook bays and their tributaries. The route also passes through a tribal reservation and a national wildlife preserve, which does sound a bit exotic though I take it as routine.

Eagle sightings are common, and I have had to stop for deer or turkeys in the middle of U.S. 1. Once I even spotted a moose far ahead on the pavement.

A radio program of classical choral music on a CBC station that comes in quite clearly is often also an element, depending on my mood.

Do you remember the freedom you felt when you first learned to drive? Some mornings, especially when there’s no other traffic, that elation returns.

While I’m tempted to proclaim “What could be more glorious than this!” I will also note many of the scattered homes I pass resemble junkyards – poverty in Washington County is a constant – so there’s a reminder of that reality, too. I suspect there are more dead cars and trucks here than people.

As an added touch, there are no traffic lights, either.

Among the many mysteries of adult life

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

I never understood how some people with a demanding career and a family or committed relationship found time to conduct an extramarital affair on the side.

I mean, just a primary relationship deserves more attention than it usually gets. Don’t they mix their communications? Which one said what or their preferences? As for names?

And yet some get away with it. Even habitually.

On the other hand, I doubt they would understand all the hours I’ve put into writing, either. What else am I missing? Dear?

 

All these guys I know are hitting 75 around me. And I’m biting my tongue.

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

Eastport and the neighboring towns are filled with fascinating characters, and it’s been delightful getting to meet so many of them in my new community.

One thing I keep hearing the men say, though, is that they’re coming up on their 75th birthday and, well, they’re beginning to feel realities of getting older. No matter how physically fit they seem.

Gee, do I really think they look a little older than me? Or do I really look young for my age?

Even though I’ve been viewing this as my Diamond Anniversary?

Let me utter a big sigh.

Much of what our commercial fishermen catch isn’t ‘fish’

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

Eastport’s fleet doesn’t use nets to fish. Rather, they use dragging gear or baited traps, mostly.

Technically, the bulk of what they catch isn’t fish, which are vertebrates, have gills, and lack limbs with digits. Fish fall into the scientific superclass of Osteichthyes, as noted in a previous Tendrils.

Shellfish, meanwhile, are invertebrates, have external skeletons, and are classified as molluscs, crustaceans, and echinoderms. See a more recent Tendrils.

So today, let’s look at what the local commercial fishermen catch. Or, in some cases, used to.

  1. Lobsters. The mainstay.
  2. Scallops. Some of the world’s best, in our humble opinion. The haul, though, is tightly regulated.
  3. Clams. While many of these are raked on sand or mud flats at low tide, others are dredged by boats at sea. They add up to the state’s third most valuable fishery.
  4. Urchins. A specialty niche making a comeback. Japanese foodies love them, but the market’s tricky.
  5. Crabs. See a previous Tendrils.
  6. Alewives, herring, and mackerel. Often caught for use as lobster bait.
  7. Shrimp. Well, not anymore, but we can keep hoping the stock will rebound.
  8. Mussels. There are some interesting attempts to establish farmed beds around here. Now that would be lovely.
  9. Cold. I’m talking about the crusty fishermen. They do bundle up in the depth of winter, though, and rarely complain.
  10. The sunrise. They head out early, all seasons of the year. Some of the views they catch are unbelievable.

Let’s not overlook salmon, a major product here, which are farmed in pens and harvested directly by special boats using tubes that work something like a giant vacuum hose. Not kidding.