Solstice Week

Well, it's been a busy week!

Monday and Tuesday we worked at the farm, barn chores.

That was a lot of hard work! Cleaning and feeding everybody. The baby goats are getting big and we had a chance to see the last set of twins just born-Carmella's little doe and buckling.

Strawberry picking is open at S's! Yeah, we were first for the night pick on Tuesday and picked a quick 8 pounds of juicy, organic, rain-saturated strawberries. In the summer twilight mist.

Laundry has been looming all week. Precluded by the The Firebird's ominous chant, "I'm getting low on underwear."

We finally cleared the decks enough to make the run today. Headed up the hill, the car suddenly started making a bigger noise than usual. Uh-oh. I pulled over at the top, flanked by waist high-hay fields and wildflowers, and assessed the situation. Hole somewhere in the exhaust. Great.

I weighed my options-two kids, the dog, and 7 loads of laundry and the laundramat, or the mechanics...

I opted to go with the plan and headed for town. The worst part of the trip was taking off from a stoplight... the car was louder than a harley. (well, an old Harley)

We walked over to the bank, across a main intersection, and it is hard to believe, but that was my kid's first experience pushing the walk button. I had a chance to explain that the walk buttons don't actually work; they are just there to give you something to do while you are standing there waiting for the light to change.

When the walk signal does come up, even walking quickly you will be unable to get halfway before the light goes out and traffic starts turning behind you.

By a stroke of timing, the Firebird had a chance to exclaim, "the button DOES work!" before the light went out half way across and we were nearly clipped by turning traffic. No, not really.

Well, we returned to the car to discover that the Firebird had snapped the tip off his fishing pole closing the car door. Irreparable under the circumstances.

See, we had negotiated a deal before we left (The Plan), where we would stop at McD's so the Firebird could get a large vanilla shake. He wanted it so bad he was bringing $10. This, in spite of the fact McD's was coming under strong protest from me, since due to a situation we had already had it for lunch the day before.

(But the Firebird didn't get the shake-it would've melted by the time he got it.)

Also, in spite of the fact that he had an upset stomach this am, and I didn't think a large McD's vanilla shake would help.

We traced this upset to the night before, when the Firebird was scarfing strawberries out of the basket, and Willow screaming, "But they're moldy! You're going to DIE soon!"

Ok, a little diarreha...

**

Willow's part of The Plan was to go mackerel fishing off the breakwater. Period.

Things went pretty well. I managed to eat another double sheeseburger for lunch, the shake did seem to sooth his stomach. And a quick trip to Walmart fixed the pole situation. Actually, I was looking for a specific mackerel lure I found online last night, and despite the rather extensive selection, the senior employee told me right off they didn't have it, and I asked what he recommended for mackerel?, and he said, "mackerel jig." Twins to the one already stowed in the fishing sack. Hmm. I scouted about and didn't find the lure. I bought a pack of three jigs, which gave them two apiece.(counting the one I had already)

I nearly bought the Firebird a sweet Zebco and then found a cheap display for $12 and bought one of those. I had to-they were called "The Firebird." NS

We roared (exhaust) into the lighthouse parking, and the Firebird struggled with the dog while I tied a snap swivel to his new pole, and simultaneously swatted hungry moose flies. You know, horse flies, but bigger. Bigger teeth, even.

At least one accomplished looking fisherman passed us by before we were underway.

Quite a few folks (four or five groups) were about the middle of the breakwater. Cool fishing guy ahead of us takes the dock, I tell the kids to try before we get to everyone else. So, I snap the mackerel jig onto Willow's Barbie pole swivel, and then the Firebird, or vice versa, and they both cast, and Willow is saying, "Mommie, I got one!"

Sure enough, she had a tinker mackerel. She was standing up on the breakwater, but there are bracing stones in places you can step down closer to the water, so I did to unhook the fish. He was hooked perfect!

Well I admit, I do like fresh mackerel, but I threw this one back expecting there would be more. Ha! No more! We kept moving further down the breakwater, much to Peko's chagrin. He does not like to stand around on the end of a leash. He whines and pants. I don't know what he was complaining about- over half the folks that walked by patted him.

Finally someone from the group we kept edging over to asked, "had any luck?"

"Yeah, she caught one her first cast further down, but then nothing."

So we tried the ocean side of the breakwater, and Willow promptly snagged up on a rock in the seaweed and we lost her lure number one.

We switched back, and they kept casting. I even had a few casts with the Firebird. With that snap and mackerel lure on there, I could cast very far out. So that was fun, sitting there catching seeweed. Until Willow hooked a buoy. She though she had her line snagged , and I started pulling. It was pulling very hard, but I was bringup up slack. Then I realized a lobster buoy was heading towards the breakwater. I could not pull that thing close enough to the rock to free it. The Firebird offerred to jump in after it. Yeah, right.

I could see the hook on the line, and it was actually just hooked on it, not stuck in, so I pulled a bunch of slack and flipped it hard a couple times, and then it slipped free. I was worried it was going to snap in the seeweed, and gave it a big jerk, and the lure flew out of the water over our heads, (we ducked) to nearly impale to passerby on the breakwater behind us. Bad timing, or maybe good, since the keyword is here, nearly.

Well, I felt like a dumb blonde then and apologized profusely, as they kept walking on, saying something about "just being from Massachusetts..) Great, hook the tourists. LOL. Actually there were quite a few tourists, including a cute Amish couple, who were among those to pet the dog in passing.

But, no more mackerel.