shells. I have been assured that the photo in the previous post wasn't immediately identifiable as an oyster shell, which it is. So, for all of my supporters I've "painted" a different view to show a more oyster-like appearance. Feedback is good.
How does ocean acidification effect shellfish? As the pH of the oceans decreases with the huge amounts of CO2 that are dumped into them daily carbonates are less available. Carbonates are what shellfish rely on to develop their shells, without it the shells become thinner, growth slows, and the animals die.
How can we help??? Stop blaming and start changing...just a little at a time.
Turn off the lights
Buy less plastic, period.
Consider quality over quantity--more is definitely not better.
Have a weekly evening of reading or conversation instead of TV or video games
Encourage your children to put on their own theater productions for you and your friends
Gather together for potluck evenings
Support Farmers' Markets and buy produce grown locally and in season
Make do and mend--that's an old saying from the days of rationing, but why not be creative?
Go to the library
Play in the park
Use reusable (and washable) bags for shopping
Walk to our destinations whenever we can, or
Ride a bike to school, the market, work (if possible).
Demand better public transportation! Two hour commutes of only a few miles is not encouraging people to "ride the bus"!
Support Light and High Speed Rail development.
This just follows along with my return to the library. I am also revisiting titles and authors from summer readings a long time ago. Philip Marlowe and L.A. of the forties, it was always raining, steamy, and lush...
The garden is still attended, though the initial input was negligible with v so ill, but there are onions and peas and spinach and chard and beans on the way. The herbs are thankfully flourishing: tarragon, marjoram, thyme, basil, sage, chives, and (not my favorite) rosemary.
I look at the name of this blog: Domesticity: a noun: home and family life. I am a family of one with a satellite in Portland, Or. Having lived so many years with a voluble and joyfully passionate Italian man, the house is so silent, still, and heavy. Italian phrases aren't shouted across rooms to bounce from ceiling to floor to wall and only outpaced by the man himself. A happy place this was...though trust me, when it got stormy the categories could terrify the most redoubtable storm chasers. We always managed to fall in love all over again.
Bookstores have all but disappeared. I admit that the idea of a device such as an iPad having the capacity to hold a library full of books was intriguing to me. I envisioned the classic oak, tenon joined, library table in a room surrounded by windows and French doors. Resting in the center of this venerable old table would be a simple tablet device and that would be the library. But, you know what? I miss holding a book and reading a printed word off of paper. Now that there are no bookstores locally, I have rediscovered the library. I've dusted off my card and have been enjoying carrying home a stack of novels that I can disappear into. I'm also enjoying the fact that in our area here, we still have a couple of the old Carnegie libraries still in service. It's nice to just pull a book off the shelf and sink into a comfortable old chair and read by the light streaming in from some beautiful old windows. A brief escape.
The elusive wolf eel in the Kelp Forest at the Monterey Bay Aquarium. We can go weeks without sighting him and then there'll be a magical day when he is out swimming. He looks like a pewter colored ribbon as he gracefully sweeps around the exhibit.
He's a favorite for visitors. I recently had a great discussion of marine life with a remarkable 8-year-old boy. He was very well informed, however as we were winding down our conversation he remarked in a world weary voice: "I don't think the aquarium really has a wolf eel. I know there's a picture of one, but I don't think there is one really here." I was just so pleased to be able to point out the eel resting in a crevice between the rocks. I'd spied him just before meeting that young man and his mother who confided that they'd been in just the day before looking for that eel. It feels so good to assist adding to an eight year old's "life list".
This little guy is called a French Grunt. The name is from the sound the little fellows make when they chew. They are found along the eastern seaboard off of the Carolinas to Florida and beyond; a frequent victim of bycatch, though I read they are also popular in aquariums.