Only A Dusting

We lucked out. That big storm that barreled across the Midwest and out to the east swooped just low enough to give us a mere dusting of snow overnight, so little that I didn't go out to shovel.  Whew.

The House Finches have been enthusiastic visitors lately.  This pair of them comes just about every day and the male drives away other males that try to horn in on their seed.

 

I spent a lot of yesterday planning and writing about it, and a lot of today making my art assignment collage.  I realized that the thing I feel most strongly about is depression and how much I appreciate my antidepressants.  I thought about the things that make me more depressed (gray cloudy days, fear of the virus) and things that help me feel happier (sunshine, my friends) and made something of it.  The more of these assignments we do the more I realize that my creativity is at a low ebb.  I blame the weather.

Making the collage didn't give me a lot of knitting time but that's okay.  I need mindless knitting for tomorrow night's knitting guild social Zoom.  This toe cap cast sock is just the thing.  One of these days I'll finally run out of this yarn.

26 January--Barbara Malcolm, The Seaview. 

Diving together had always made us feel like a family.  It was what we did together when the kids were in middle and high school, and diving together had kept them talking to us during those difficult years. Watching my children laugh together, knowing that they were such good friends and depended on each other made me glad that Jim had pushed and prodded me to get certified to dive all those years ago.  The wind created by the fast-moving boat blew my tears away.

           Since the four of us were the only divers that day Dougie suggested that we go out to dive the newest of the purpose-sunk wrecks in Road Bay.  The Kathy Lee  had been blown onto a reef a few years back and had spent time rusting there before she was patched and refloated enough to tow her into deep water and anchor her so that a team of expats and locals could clean her out, tow her into even deeper water, and then open the seacocks and hatches to let her sink to the bottom.   That wasn't exactly how it worked.  One night a dive shop owner and the local dentist were working deep in the last hold of the freighter to be cleaned when they decided that instead of hauling out all of the trash they'd collected, they'd pile it up and burn it right there.  Much of it was oil-soaked or thickly painted and made a much hotter fire than either man anticipated.  The heat of the fire caused the hull plates to separate so almost before they knew what was happening they were knee-deep in sea water.  They made a safe escape but there was no towing the ship into deeper water.  They were lucky that the water was deep enough under her keel so that the whole vessel was underwater.  The wreck had been on the bottom less than a year so while it had been quickly colonized by schools of Blue Tangs, Yellowtail Snappers, and a Barracuda or two, there were only a few sponges and small, fuzzy hydroids growing on the ship itself and it was surrounded by bare sand with a few small patches of rocky reef.

            By the time Freddy, the boat driver, and Dougie, the divemaster, had the dive boat secured to the mooring line we had our wetsuits zipped up, had checked our regulators and tanks one more time, had our masks with snorkels attached around our necks, and our fins in our hands.

            After leaning over the rail to survey the shipwreck and bottom conditions evident from the surface and giving us a short history of the ship and her sinking, Dougie finished his briefing by saying that he didn't think we needed to be watched so he'd stay on board and let us explore on our own.  He cautioned us to stay near the shipwreck and not wander off, no matter what sort of fascinating creature swam by.

            The four of us entered the water at the same time, hands on our masks.  We met at the mooring line to descend on the wreck of the Kathy Lee.  Will and Elizabeth got to the line first; Marie and I were right behind.  We traded OK signs and began our descent to the bridge of the old freighter standing upright on the sea floor at eighty-five feet.

            Elizabeth sank a little faster than the rest of us; when she got level with the ship she flew toward the stern.  Will was right behind her.  There was a bottom current that no one could see from the surface.  There were no sea fans growing on her to wave in the surge.  Marie and I grabbed the ship's railing as the rushing water pushed us, the stinging cells of the tiny hydroids growing in colonies on it stung our hands.  They burned like nettles but we held on.

            I turned and forced my fins into the current to see where Will and Elizabeth were.  He had caught her just before they were blown past the ship and managed to grab an old line trailing from the stern rail in the current.  He was in the process of pulling them both back to where they had solid shipwreck to hold onto.  Marie's eyes were big as saucers as she stared at me.  I smiled to show her that they were safe.     

            Once Will had clamped Elizabeth's hands on the railing he looked our way and touched his right hand to the top of his head signaling that they were OK.  My thoughts were racing to figure out a way to get the four of us safely back up to the dive boat.

            I watched Will reach into his wife's buoyancy vest pockets, pull out gloves, and help her put them on.  He had gloves too.  Once their hands were protected from the stinging hydroids they began to move toward us, hand over hand, pulling against the raging current.  I was glad to see that they had gloves since most dive operations frown on divers wearing them as having gloves on makes people more apt to touch or hold onto coral.  On our first ever Caribbean dive trip I saw a clear fin print in a reef where someone had stood on the coral.

            Seeing them pull out gloves reminded me that I had a neon orange safety sausage in my own pocket.  I pulled it out and, shielding it with my body, got ready to inflate it.  There was a long line attached to the inflatable tube that would let Freddy and Dougie know where we were as we ascended.

            With hand signals we arranged ourselves so that we wouldn't get separated when we let go of the ship.  I inflated the sausage with my octopus regulator, released it to the end of its tether line, and prepared to ascend out of the current.

            We let go of the railing and each of us kept a hand on the tether line as the current pushed us away from the Kathy Lee.  When we'd ascended to within thirty feet of the surface I felt the safety sausage pop up into the air.  I kept tension on the tether line so it stayed upright in the water, giving Freddy a way to find us.

            I heard the boat motor start and knew that help was on the way.

Today's toss was another not-going-to-be-a-project-after-all flannel shirt.  I'm tossing them one at a time because I don't know what I'll find to toss next.

The writing prompt today was an easy one.  What is your greatest fear?  Stairs.  I am, and always have been, afraid of falling down stairs.  I always hold the handrail going up or down and am always convinced that I'm one wobble away from a broken neck.  Good thing I do yoga every day to help keep my balance in good shape.

--Barbara