Blackberries and Whales? (Part II)

Now we’ll get to do some whale-watching! What a thrill!

Ruthie took her turn with the binoculars. “I see something but it’s hard to make out.” She passed Rich our pair because Cec was using theirs. “You look, brother-dear.”            

Suddenly bouncing around, he yelled, “Yeah, I see them! Those are adults with their young ones! There, I see one rolling over!”

Born and raised here, Cec knew about the ocean and what swam through it. Lowering the glasses, she snickered to Ruthie, “I think our whale boys are hallucinating!”

Rich and I drew a crowd with our carrying on. Using their own field glasses, they too started hollering; “They’re right! I see them!”--”Yeah, there’s at least a dozen of them!”--“Wow, one came way up out of the water!” (Every word of this is true).

Eyes now used to the distance, I saw more clearly and lo, those whales were beginning to look suspiciously like low-lying rocks with waves breaking over them and shooting spray in the air.

The light also dawning on Rich, he muttered, “Hmm, on second thought…”

Meantime assuming we two clowns knew what we were talking about, everyone else was gathered around us.

I whispered, “Rich, we better sneak out of here.”

He whispered back, “And quick! They come to their senses, they’ll toss us in!”

The following week we were at Seattle’s airport and waiting to be checked through the security gate. We’d had a great time, especially the three days spent gobbling blackberries. Ruthie and Cecelia had made scrumptious cobblers and pies, we had heaped the lovely things on cereal and ice cream, and between meals we had scooped them from serving bowls to munch as is. By all rights we should have been heartily sick of them by now.

But no, as we stood in line for the security check, I carried a large storage box crammed full of them to keep enjoying once home. The box being transparent, I figured the NSA guard would see just berries inside and no problem.

When I stepped up to her, she was amiable at first. “Sorry, but I need to look inside that box before you bring it aboard.”

She didn’t sound all that serious. It having somehow slipped my mind that NSA people are never anything but with carry-on parcels, I kidded her by pulling it closer. “Nope, can’t have them-they’re mine! Ha-ha!”

Now feeding me a cold stare, she went curt. “What’s inside that’s so important?”

I thought-Me and my big stupid mouth! Now I’ve done it!

Having a lot more sense, Ruthie smiled, “We’ll be glad to open it if you want. They’re wild blackberries we’re hoping to take home to Wisconsin. During our visits here we go totally crazy over them!”

The guard broke into a wide smile. “I’m nuts for them too! I’ve lived here forever and still can’t eat enough of them! Don’t you have blackberries in Wisconsin?”

Laughing, Ruthie shook her head. “Not like these we don’t! Your wild ones are the biggest and tastiest we’ve ever had. We couldn’t resist bringing some home.”

Now all grins our new-found pal patted the box and jerked her thumb toward our gate. “Go on through, Wisconsin, you’re cleared!”            

 

 

Here’s the first half of a travel piece that asks a riddle; know what whales and blackberries have in common? Me, neither. If you figure it out, write in and tell me, okay?             

                        

                                Blackberries and Whales? (Part One)

After flying in to see son Craig in Seattle, Ruthie and I broke away and drove our rental car south to visit with her older brother, Rich, and wife Cecilia in Vancouver, WA. It was mid-August, the coast’s prime growing season, and lining both sides of the road were patches of wild blackberries so loaded with fruit the branches bent to the ground. Prior visits had made believers of us berry lovers that these kind were the tastiest we’d ever had. Now running more hog wild than ever, they were doubly enticing.

I burst out, “Look at them all! The highway department can’t keep up with cutting them back!” No sooner said when our tires scrunched a berry-covered creeper stretched onto the pavement. Gawking from side to side, I swerved a couple times.

Ruthie tapped my shoulder.  “Dear, zigzagging the whole way to my brother’s place is a no-no. Let’s just stop and pick some.”

We’d known enough to bring buckets and quicker than it takes to tell it we were snatching up blackberries with both hands.

Scratched from neck to ankles in a tangle of brambles and caring less, I held up my bucket and crowed, “Bet I’ve got a gallon already!”

At least this much in her own, she laughed, “Looks like they’re mostly on your face and t-shirt!”

Same as her, I had eaten one for every two I picked, just messier is all. But we were exactly alike in one thing, anyway; not being scared off by their prices in those little-bitty boxes at the store.

She frowned. “But we’re not showing up with you all stained, so change, okay?”

I probably sounded like a six year-old, “C’mon sweetie, they’re as nuts for these as we are! That huge patch in their back yard will have them stained when we get there!”

When we did they weren’t, but Rich laughed, “Gibber, once back from where we’re taking you guys, I’ll look worse than you. There’s patches coming and going!”          They wanted to show us this incredible lighthouse they had been to last month. Next eyeing my shirt, Cec wagged a finger at me a half second before Ruthie did. “But Berry Boy we’re not going anyplace ‘til you change that thing!”

Before long we were at Cape Disappointment, famous for its lighthouse high atop a rock promontory above the mouth of the Columbia River. After climbing the lighthouse stairs to the top, we were met by guide Barbara.

She told us, “The winter winds can get up to 160 mph. here and have caused lots of shipwrecks.” She pointed to where the mighty Columbia spread out even wider into the Pacific. “Many of them are still down there from years ago. Even a ways inland the winds are strong enough to make it the wind-surfing capitol of the world.”

After coming down, we went to the overlook. Rich said, “When we were here last month she said that whales are out there pretty often. We didn’t see any that time, but stay ready with the binoculars.” 

Fascinated by these great, intelligent creatures, I had never seen any except on the Discovery channel. Eagerly scanning our little corner of the Pacific, I jerked up. “I think I see some-maybe a whole pod!” My so-called pod was quite a ways out and obscured by large, choppy waves. Still, whatever-they-were sure looked like humpbacks spouting and diving out there.  

                       

                   “No, people, open your eyes! They're way bigger than porpoises!”  

(Wow, how exciting! Find out more with Part 2!)

Many thanks to those of you who've signed up so far. As Ruthie said in her PR e-mails, getting followers for this blog is a big step in the right direction for publishing our book. Also, the more comments made after each piece the better, whether you liked them-were bored-or whatever, so keep them coming. Within the next week I'll be posting another of our two-part travel tales. Enjoy. 

You're right, I've been away too long. So, here's one of my "This and That" pieces which I'm also sending to the Rapids Tribune. Enjoy.

                                    Is It Spring Yet?

            Someone, a poet I think, once wrote, “Oh springtime, such blessed renewal!” It seems to have sprung here in Adams County and lots of us feel the same way.

            Ruthie does, like yesterday when dancing around her newly sprouted tulips. An avid bird lover, she even chirped like one while putting up feeders for her hummers.

            On a roll with this springtime renewal stuff, she found a bunch of other things around here that could use it. With me watching, she walked back and forth over a section of our boardwalk in front. Stopping, she shifted from side to side.

             “See, dear? The wood runners are rotted under these boards. They wiggle and sag when I walk on them and it drives me crazy!”

            I admitted, “Yeah, they’ve done that lately with me too.”

            She gave me that look. “Gilbert, what exactly do you call lately!?”

            Any who’ve read this column know what “Gilbert” instead of “dear” means. I’d soon be sweating and straining to replace the boardwalk. Cleverly-to throw her off balance-I shot back, “Okay, a bit longer (a couple years) but we can still walk on it!”

            You might also know where my protests get me. An hour later I had two eight-foot 4x4 replacement runners in the garage. Soon as all this rain takes a break from renewing everything I’ll put them in.

            Our car had also made her renewal list, she telling me, “Dear, it was used when we bought it eight years ago. Now there’s almost two-hundred thousand miles on it. You’re the astronomer. Isn’t that the same as from here to the Moon?”

            New car prices are scary and I hate having to buy them. Very cautiously I said, “It’s 240,000 give or take.”

            Eyes wide, she gasped, “Nearly a quarter of a million? We need to go car shopping ASAP!”

            She threw in that “million” to make it seem even more, I bet. But there was the upside; a newer car would let me off the hook with repairs. Better yet, there’d be no more of her renewal schemes to duck and hide from, not for awhile, anyway.

            Except nuts, I forgot last week when she was frowning at the walls and trim in the living room. “Dear, when was the last time we re-painted in here, six years ago?”

            It had been longer. Dreading what was coming next, I mumbled the number in a bare whisper so she couldn’t possibly understand or even hear it.  

            “You’re right, it was eight! But by putting a fresh coat in here…” She paused- “…and all the other rooms, we’d renew the whole inside!” She waited for my answer.

            This time I just grunted and shuffled my feet.

            She nodded enthusiastically, “Right again, dear, you’re a genius! A new-looking inside would only make the outside look worn and old! So, we’d also have to .etc.-etc.”

            Meantime, I scratched my head-I said all that? Maybe I should renew my brain!

            By now you’ve had it up to here with my renewal of this and renewing that, and me-too. Let’s end it by saying that Ruthie and I, along with our friends really do have fun seeing my babblings appear here in the Rapids Tribune. So, a reminder; be sure to…renew your subscriptions when due, okay? (Sorry-couldn’t resist). And finally (if it makes up its mind to arrive)-Happy Springtime!