Scattered Things

Mostly, in between bouts of coffee and reading my brains out, I've been observing. In the space of time since I last wrote, I've been mulling, scatteredly, over: -10 whales bubble feeding-- which is when they send a huge bubble of smaller fish up to the surface where the whales all come together, like they are dancing, mouths open, to catch their breakfast

-A brown bear and its babes rolling in the high grass of Koogan Bay

-21 king salmon bleeding in the bottom of Luke's coldwater boat (victory!)

-2000 pounds of halibut coming out of a long-liner's ice hole to their final end at the processing plant, where they get sprayed down, guillotined (with mean severity), and filleted into what goes onto your unassuming plate

-Fish slime, flung everywhere

-Cracked, salty hands

-Drizzling rain that got in my boots and never came back out except to leave mold in the corners of the bedroom

-A sign in Mosquito Cove that said, "Mama bear and her cubs seen yesterday on this trail" which sent me for an ice cream cone instead of an excursion

-"Sucker-holes" of sunlight that make me happy and then sad again when they're too-soon gone

-The lush woods of hikes here-- where the tips of Sitka Spruce look flourescent, and the red deadfallen logs stretch in mossy layers along braided creeks (and if fairies exist, they definitely live in these forests)

-More shades of green than I've ever seen

-More PBR's than I've ever drank

-A more front-burner-of-my-brain difficulty understanding my place here or anywhere, really

-And Luke saying, in unknowingly telepathic response, while we were walking through the bouncy muskeg on Gavin Trail yesterday:

"It's easy to be so busy, even here, that you forget you're a part of creation."