What's under the dock?
Usually when we sail, we look at big marine animals. Orcas gliding by in packs. Dolphins circling like synchronized Ferris wheels. Seals flopped on the rocks, usually upside down. We scan for rarer creatures, like humpback whales, so exciting to observe when they blow.
But what's under the dock? Besides seaweed and mussels, there are red and purple spiny starfish. Crabs. Sea slugs. Barnacles. All sorts of fish, from smelt to salmon. Two types of jellyfish: the clear,...
What is it like to sleep on a boat? Is it scary or safe? Adventurous or calm? Quiet or noisy?
Yes, no, and sometimes. Usually, it depends.
On the hook, you notice tiny details. The fizz of bubbles as wavelets strike the hull. How crumpled up those big red starfish look. The film of salt on lips that flavors everything you eat.
Sometimes you miss big things. In the photo, see that darker blue area on the water? It turned into a Poe-like maelstrom. I watched while an entire tree was carried...
I am working on a new set of stories that are based on my summers at sea. Stories based on my fishing, canoeing, crabbing, and sailing adventures. One thing I have not tried yet is writing about provisioning boats. After today, I may have a new idea.
It's a truism that boats are either under repair or in need of it. As I sail from port to port, however, there is another piece of the sailing puzzle that gets little attention: getting food. My lockers are full of canned things: tuna, chicken,...
Today I learned that the miter lock - the V-shaped pair of gates that control water levels in a marine environment – was invented in the 1490s by Leonardo da Vinci.
I've seen working locks many times, from the mighty Soo Locks with their capacity to move 1000- foot freighters from lake to lake via immense 250-ton gates, all the way down to tiny DIY wooden portcullis canal locks in the countryside.
I visited the Ballard Locks by land, and chatted with the operators, passing yachters, and a...
...And the adults are misbehaving.
Just like the green-necked pigeons, they wander around the platform. Their necks are ringed, albeit with scarves and not irridescent feathers.
They snack on junk food. Peck (at devices). Bump into each other, then look up, surprised. They look remarkably like the birds.
The train is late. The children are fine. They talk to stuffed animals or balance on one foot. A few chase the pigeons, delighted with cause-and-effect. I stamp: they fly.
I squat to gain a...
One of the reasons I love writing for children is the research – spending time with potential readers. I love their reactions: pointing to a beautiful illustration to identify colors or objects, or giggling at the humor of a raccoon pretending to be the babysitter. Children react with excitement to every turn of the page. What will happen next?
Working with children learning to enjoy words and books brings back memories of learning to communicate in different countries where I’ve lived. I...
I am experimenting with an app that lets me present back matter visually via the below link.
https://padlet.com/liz67206/the-edgecomb-jar-gbvhsh85h1q34d1g
Please let me know what you think about the Padlet. Is it useful? Interesting?
Growing up, the Japanese maple in my yard was designated as "the little kid's tree". The low branching pattern made this particular tree easy for even small people to climb. Chubby hands could grasp the thick bottom branch. With a hop and a heave, I was up, up, up, twelve full inches off the ground and into a world of my own.
I could be a princess in a castle or a firefighter on a ladder, or - if I brought a banana - Curious George. The change in elevation made anything possible. It felt like...
One of my goals is to write a children's book about death. I know, bad idea, right? But I've worked with refugees and displaced persons. I've seen children at their first funeral. I tend to write about things that are overlooked. It seems to me that very few books deal with the sadness of permanent loss.
Here are some things I've heard kids ask or say. Each speaker was less than eight years old:
Why are we putting her in the ground? Heaven is up.
I'm sick and tired of Trey being dead.
Can't we...
Lellooooo..... Lelloooo....
A tiny friend is learning her words. She giggles, squirms, hides her eyes behind small pudgy hands while she gathers the courage to speak. And then - after a sneak peek at the audience - tries out her latest achievement. In a breathy, surprisingly deep voice, she tries to say hello.
Lelloooo....
It's clear she's both proud and nervous. She's feeling accomplished - look at all this attention! Yet she wonders - did I get the words right?
I wish I could tell her, we have...
There is an heirloom apple tree on public land near my house. It must be 75 years old. It probably sprang up from a discarded seed, and left alone, simply grew. Now, twisted large branches droop thirty or more feet from crown to dirt. Small, lumpy, dull green apples hang from the tree. Many more lie in heaps around the base.
Most of the apples have worm holes, or brown spots, or spider webs embedded by rain into little greyish lumps around the stems. Compared to the apples in the store, which...
Splash! Skid! Sprinkle! Shriek! The neighborhood toddler party was a festival of onomatopoeia.
Also a reminder that one-word sentences can convey as much emotion as rhythmic or lyrical passages. Little ones can "fill in the blanks". Who knows if I'll write a book about a backyard splash party - but I'll remember the sounds of joy.
I had a change of perspective - literally - after discovering foxglove plants that were six to seven feet tall. I felt so little - which is how my (potential) readers must feel all the time. It was different than hiking among, say, redwood trees. I expect them to be huge. Flowers? Quite a surprise.
Note to self: to tell stories for children, remember to sit down. View the world from three feet above the earth. The scale is so different.
Hiking in a second-growth forest in British Columbia today, I ran across an abandoned piece of equipment called a Mechanical Donkey. This device, about the size of a compact car, was used to winch fallen trees up or down the very steep slopes upon which they had grown. Now rusted, with a frayed cable wrapped around the spool, this device was critical to the livelihoods of the first European settlers in my remote location.
A few hundred yards below me, there remains a small settlement of First...
Beneath the dock the seaweeds sway
In marching lines four times each day
Dark purple, green, and red display
Like banners on parade.
First north to south the water flows
Delights your dangling dock-based toes
From marsh to ocean, out it goes.
Slack tide: the pennants fade.
Now urchins, sea stars, otters meet
Among the silky leaves to eat
Delicious eel grass tasty treat
Before the currents turn.
And as the tide from far-off sea
returns, know that my love will be
as big and deep and wide and free
for you,...