YOU OTTER

That critter was galloping along the shoreline when we spotted it from a distance. “What is that?” Gary said. And it was someone totally unexpected. “ASHES ASHES ON THE WATER, BURN THE HAIRY LITTLE OTTER. GEE IT LOOKS LIKE SO MUCH FUN, I CAN’T WAIT UNTIL HE’S DONE.” Don’t take this silliness too seriously—Gary and a University Book Store friend wrote it in about 1971. Gary and I both love otters. Can’t you see him?

We thought we might not get out on the beach this morning. The rocks were slippery with frost. Streams had iced over. Castaway jellyfish were frozen. And there was an otter running down the beach.

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SNOW

Snow days, eagles, red snapper (warning: the fish is dead), and symptoms I am old in no particular order.

Our local eagle pair were high up above the beach in a spruce the other day. We heard them first and had to search. They were agitated, probably about what turned out to be a beached and quite dead red snapper. Our local eagles are not aggressive.
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COLD

We’re in Portland just now, and it’s in the 20s outside. I ran three miles here yesterday and walked a couple more, up and down NW Portland streets. I planned to walk three miles this morning, but maybe not in this cold.

We tested negative again yesterday. This means I have not been sick (with anything) for at least three years. Well, there is an issue with the blue cheese… But no cold or flu or covid. We are fully vaccinated and boosted and hopeful we will be able to see family next weekend.

Eagles, hummingbirds, teaching writing, childbirth, and life expectancy. What we saw a few days ago on the coast:

This crawfish did not belong on the sand early the other morning. I have caught, cooked, and eaten crawfish in my youth. We could have eaten him. But no. We think he’s not the invasive species, just a local critter washed down after the rain, and Gary put him back in Asbury creek.
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HOME TURF

Many years ago a famous author commented about the sloppy appearance of women in Washington State, where I went to public schools, Kindergarten through three undergrad degrees. She also talked about Puget Sound, using terminology appropriate to the East coast. Both comments irritated me, but non-locals talking about my corner of the natural world is particularly irksome. She spoke with authority and got details all wrong. I mean to write about two things today. First, a peevish rant about people misunderstanding my home.

I should have shared this photo before now. Christmas snow with a west wind. Most winters we have not seen snow. Some winters we have not even experienced a major frost on the coast—the impact of the largest body of water in the world right outside our door.

A mediocre mystery/romance novel set on “the Puget Sound” referred to it as “ocean,” which it isn’t. Look at a map for goodness sake. And no one born here includes that article “the” before Puget. As in: We took the ferry across Puget Sound to Orcas Island.

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