I remember a long time ago there was a trend in personal color analysis. A person’s skin tones were assessed and labeled by season. People started telling each other, “I’m a summer,” or “You’re an autumn.” For all I know, people still describe skin tones in these terms.
The other day, I realized that in many ways, Michelle is a summer, while I am a winter, but it has nothing to do with our coloration, but with our work focus on the homestead. Continue reading
I’m feeling pretty damn smug right now. Or, I would be, if I weren’t so doggone tired.
The herring arrived off the homestead beach on Easter, just as I predicted.
I don’t know if herring wait for calm weather to spawn, but it seems likely. In this, our fifth year of fishing the herring runs, we’ve noticed that they almost always shoal against the shore in calm seas. After days of strong southeast winds, Easter morning dawned calm and sunny. Bald eagles sat in the trees above the cabin, over the garden, and perched on the southern point, watching the water intently. Most convincingly, the small, black headed Bonaparte gulls, with their odd, feisty cry, showed up.
An eagle sits in the tree above our smokehouse, waiting for herring (Photo: Aly Zeiger).
