SWORDFERN
Rooted, I used to think.

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Giving Notice - Friday, Sept. 29, 2017
Accepting Offers - Tuesday, Sept. 26, 2017
Indian/Polish Wedding - Thursday, Sept. 21, 2017
The Builder - Wednesday, Sept. 13, 2017
Rupert Part II - Sunday, Sept. 10, 2017


Tuesday, Sept. 02, 2003 @ 11:02 pm
Saltspring Island II



I went out to the lake tonight to my spot. It's perfect for night swimming: a rock on the side for clothes and a towel, and the rushes are not too thick in the water.

But tonight there was a pair of worn leather sandals and a towel right there on my rock. I chickened out. Hopped right back on my bike and rode back up the road. Deer in my bike light, eyes glowing yellow. I've never ridden my bike at night outside of the city - the stars are a million and the forest is quiet save for the lapping of the lake. Like flying, riding in the night. Beneath the sky, I'm infinetly small.

I spent the afternoon filling seal stomachs with electrolytes in the hopes that they would all vomit up the suspected-to-be contaminated herring we all fed them at lunch.

I spent the other afternoon holding the hind leg of a fawn while the cast was applied.

I spent the other morning scrubbing out the eagle mew. I was hosing above my head and the shit was spraying down all over me.

The other afternoon I lost rock-paper-scissors and I had to weigh the seal pups. Clothing: rubber pants, jacket boots. Equipment: bathroom scale. The seals release their bladders when you pick them up. So for each seal I had a stream of urine running down the side of my body (pants tucked into boots) while stepping on and off the scale.

We have about 55 seals right now.

So without my swim tonight I feel unsettled. Straight from the fish-mash room into the shower and into bed. Damn that person at my spot. They better not be there tomorrow.


Roots | Shoots