Coralline Algae

As a native Easterner most often on Western beaches, I am fascinated by the delicate bony seaweed that is so commonly found strewn along the wrack line of the rough and tumble beaches of Northern California.  This is the articulated coralline red algae.  When alive, its joints -- the flexible, noncalcified genicula ("knee" in latin) --  bend with the tidal flow.  When dry, however, coralline algae is delicate and breaks easily into its calcified pieces.

The Power of Love

I received a mysterious e-mail the other day from a reader of my Heart Stones book named Jill.  She mentioned a miracle she wanted to relay to me.  I waited and waited and then finally received the story of her heart stones.  I include it here because it is inspiring and hopeful.  It also makes me realize the importance of opening up eyes and hearts to looking around us...really looking and paying attention. This can run the gamut from how we notice the stones at our feet, the hearts in our dogfood (a follow up e-mail informed me that Jill had just received her first "dogfood heart") to how we think and react to news or events. This is Jill's story:

 In the fall of 2009, an opportunity opened up for me to go to a new school and teach art again.  I was hired on a Friday and started that following Monday.  This school was a challenge for me.  I had only taught in a wealthy area before where the students had everything materialistic they could ask for and most came from happy healthy homes. My new school was low income, Title 1 school.  Many parents were in jail and education was not a priority to many.  Many of my students were homeless, living in shelters and 75% of the school was on free lunch.  I saw behavior I was not accustomed to.  What I learned was that these children needed love more than anything else. 

    I shared my collection of heart rocks with my students, telling them that there is love all over, all you have to do is look.  The next day, to my surprise my students began to bring me heart rocks.   They would pull them out of their pockets and backpacks and tell me  where they found them. Instead of keeping the rocks for themselves , they would give them to me.  Soon they came in in bags, buckets, old McDonalds wrappers, anything they could find to bring in the heart rocks.  This became an afterschool activity for them.

    On the last day of school, my student named Stormy, a little kindergarten girl, who was bald (mom shaved her head because she had lice) brought me the biggest heart rock ever.  My tiniest student brought me the biggest heart rock.  We painted it hot pink, and it now is in the collection outside of my art room door.

     The heart rocks continue to pour in everyday.  I put the children's name on the hearts and display them in the window sill.  Our count so far is 880 heart rocks.

My students have learned the act of giving.  It gives them something to do and something to hope for when times are tough for them. They have learned that a gift can be free and they don't need to "buy" anything at the store to make someone happy.  The joy in their faces is indescribable when they run to me with their new found heart rocks. They feel loved and special just holding a rock.

    This is a story about hope, inspiration, and miracles. 

What more need be said.

BARDO

Bardo is what I call this place of hanging--in between projects, in between knowing what will come and what won't, in between the kids being self sufficient and needing plenty of assistance.  It is a floating uncertainty that can feel extremely uncomfortable.  It takes concerted patience and humor for this state to feel ok to me.

Bardo is from the Tibetan words "bar" meaning in between and "do" meaning island or marking point.  I certainly am in between islands, making the journey by small rowboat.  Perhaps I am a stuck in an eddy right this moment.

Remembering July

July 14, 2010 Fox Island Thoroughfare, 7:15 am, tide -1.57 feet

I was out at the Dumplings this morning at the turn of the tide.  The moment hung there in the raking light, neither coming nor going.  The mudflats hissed gently and ducks gaggled on the exposed rocks.  The wind tried to fill in from the bay but the tide said, "let's wait a bit."  The day was on hold; the water was flat as steel and the seaweed silently draped. Everything waited. I walked around the tiny island almost holding my breath.  When I returned to where I had begun, my little boat was exactly as I had left it on the muddy shore, half in the water and half on the beach.

I rowed back to the dock and by the time I got there the day had begun.  A whaler buzzed, the wind had filled in and the ferry went by.

the plastic scourge

Yesterday I spent a chunk of the afternoon cleaning up my street.  Our hill is too steep for the street cleaners to dare come up or down, so trash collects.  I started at the bottom corner of Castro where a pink plastic bag of trash has been sitting for days getting closer and closer to the storm drain.  As I approached with my rubber gloves, trash bag and robo-tongs (a delightful holdout from Coastal Clean-up day) I noticed that wedged between the bars of the drain, almost pushed through, was a flattened plastic water bottle.  Despite being an ardent foe of plastic water bottles in principle, I have always, in my heart, been somewhat incredulous that they actually get into the storm drains and thus into our waterways and oceans.  But here it was...happening.  I carefully plucked the bottle by its neck out from between the drain grid, careful not to push it through and be lost to pollute our oceans. 

As well as picking up along our beaches, it is equally important to pick up in our neighborhoods and everywhere we are.  Keep plastic out of the drains! The current issue of the New Yorker has a fascinating article on plastics and their environmental consequences.  

Feather Boa Kelp Bladder

This small air bladder is from a feather boa kelp.  Air bladders (of varying sizes) are particular to the brown algae family; they are instrumental in keeping the seaweed blades closer to the surface for better access to light and thus better ability to photosynthesize.   Isn't it adorable!

Acid Kelp, Princeton-by-the-Sea April 21, tide: -.03

It felt like a hurricane on the beach today.  The onshore wind worked fiercely against the small waves, which had a hard time coming in to meet the shore.  A large flock of geese would rise and group, but making no headway would come down and stand  at the waters edge making a fuss, bill into the wind.  It was low tide and large clumps of dark seaweed were distributed in batches all over the sand, wrenched from their underwater world and left on the beach. Individual bits would occasionally blow off from a clump and tumble towards the water. Unlike a shell or sand dollar or smooth piece of driftwood, these clumps of organic matter were not inviting--they were dark, sticky and tangled.

But I was here to collect this seaweed, not stones or shells or driftwood. I dutifully inspected each clump and was astonished at the variety I found.  Although I could only affirm basic distinctions amidst the jumble, there were clearly an astonishing array of algae tangled together: some smooth, some bumpy, some bright green, most reddish brown, some frilly and some simple and flat with remarkable shapes.  I dumped a few clumps into my cooler bag. There was one in particular that I had an inkling was long and spikey but it was a tangle of dark green strands so I dumped it in with the others.

At home I separated out each sample seaweed, rinsed it under the tap and dropped it into a tub of salt water.  As soon as it hit the water, its rightful medium, it came to life--its form and color and translucent sensuality awakened. Pale pinks with textures mingled with bright greens and yellow oranges.  I found the green spikey and after rinsing it I tried to lay it out flat and find its form..  As I tried to tease out the delicate blades I experienced immense frustration.  Each blade would stick to my fingers or to each other. These ocean flora truly belong in water not air.  But my amazement grew as I persevered; the seemingly delicate connections between each razor-thin blade were powerfully strong and able to withstand immense force, and each blade had the serrated edges that engendered the blades themselves. While many seaweed blades clearly break easily at the ends, these were usually intact and fully shaped when I could unravel them.  I truly felt like I was unravelling a secret that few have seen before: the secret of Desmarestia ligulata or acid kelp.