Remembering a Lost Fisherman

This has been a sad week for our community. Last Tuesday the lobster fishing season kicked off. It's a dangerous time for those who work at earning a living from the sea, winter's coming, the seas are rough and heavy winds are frequent.
On the first day, everyone is out at daylight with boats loaded with as many lobster traps as they can carry, all have to be set out to claim their area for the whole season. Because of this, the Dept. of Fisheries delays the opening when the weather is too rough, but a fisherman's life cannot be completely safe by its very nature.
This time one boat didn't make it through that first day, foundered in rough seas with engine trouble. Her captain and three crew ended up in the ocean when the boat went down.

It happens in minutes, and it's everyone's worst nightmare. The three crewmen survived, but the captain didn't make it. The funeral mass was this afternoon, on another windy day when the boats are out there, traps being pulled, baited, and put back in the still rough waters. The captain was my age and his son goes to the same school as mine. A dark time for his family.

My sister's husband, also a lobster fisherman, is out working those same waters. My nephew is trying it this year for the first time. For the rest of the season, we'll all be sending our prayers and thoughts to the family of that lost fisherman. Many families will be waiting and watching, checking the weather and the wind, until the last boat comes into harbour and ties up safely for each night. Many a silent prayer will be said each morning as the boats set out to sea for another long, long day.

They that go down to the sea in ships; and occupy their business in
great waters, these men see the works of the Lord: and his wonders in the deep.

Welcome to the Homely House Journal

Welcome to my journal. I live in a country setting that is wonderful for nature watchers and decided to have a go at sharing it. My home is an old house just big enough for two (sometimes not quite as my teenage son likes music that I don't, but we manage.) It's near where I grew up and I moved back here after years of city living. The house is set in a big yard surrounded by woods and fields. My 80-year old father remembers when this place had working pastures and a big apple orchard. There are still old apple trees on a path to the wood and you can hear the deer out there on summer nights. Wild turkeys, songbirds, bald eagles, coyotes and deer are a few of the wildlife characters that share our space.

It's October 31st, Hallowe'en, and we've just had our first hard frost. After a lovely Indian summer, autumn has arrived and I have to finish putting the garden to bed. At sunrise, the light shimmered through a faint mist, lighting sparkles on the silvered grass and frosted flowers. Chickadees darted back and forth from the apple trees and the woods while juncos nibbled away at dandelion puffs. A song sparrow strolled around on the shed roof. In a patch of sun warming the pine kitchen table, the cat made himself comfortable as a centrepiece until I shooed him off. Sometimes he looks so pretty and contented, black and white fur backlit by sunshine, I pretend not to see him there. He keeps me company all day while my son is at school. After years of lesson planning and research for homeschool, it seems funny not to have to plan curriculum and organize a school year.

I hope to renew rusty writing skills by doing this journal and welcome readers who enjoy nature and the quiet life to enjoy it with me.