Vignette 21
A Stellar Day
We are cautiously emerging from three storms in less than three weeks. I went to sleep last night in my usual manner; read until I couldn’t keep my eyes open a moment longer, then woke myself up again due to wrestling with the lamp plug. The little switch doesn’t work anymore, requiring that I pull the cord out of the wall socket to get the damn light to turn off. Wide awake again, I would have read some more if turning on and off the light wasn’t such a mission. Such is my life of late, filled with small annoyances. There is angst in the air.
We have been house bound for three solid weeks, but consider ourselves fortunate to have braved the gales with only one twenty four hour power outage. So it seemed curious when I awoke around 4 a.m. feeling like a nine year old, quivering with Christmas morning-like anticipation. For some inexplicable reason I felt excited by what this new day would offer. How weird, given that the last three weeks have been no more than an endless repetition of dodging rain squalls and trying to keep a fire lit with gale force winds whooshing their way down the flu.
I forced myself to stay in bed until 6:30. It was 8 a.m. before the sun ascended the ridge. With coffee in hand I wandered outside to survey my domain. Sounding Free was resting quietly after a long a long stretch of gale force winds that tried to have their way with her. She is after all a tough old broad. Orapiu Bay looked like Walden Pond with the rising sun casting a gold tint to the surface of the water. This is the start of something I thought to myself. Wonder what it will be? Sometimes, palpable magic is in the air on Waiheke. Who knows, it might be one of those famous vortex sites, like the ones reported in Sedona, Arizona. There are certainly enough alternative folk roaming Waiheke to help propel it into vortex status.
My studio is full of new paintings, and that might contribute to my childlike anticipation this morning. The start of a new series always heightens my senses. I have pondered at length what I would like to study for the next few months. The paintings for my January exhibition: Fish, Eat, Sleep are finished, leaving me with a sense of urgency to find a new project. Two days ago I became aware of which fork in the road I might enjoy taking. Janet Hunt (a Waiheke resident and famous author), received the 2008 Montana Book Award for New Zealand Wetlands, a bittersweet story. I hadn’t read more than four pages of this gorgeous book before I was hooked. Janet introduced me to the story of the Godwits, who migrate each year, from the Miranda Estuary, at the Firth of Thames (a hop, skip and jump across the gulf from Waiheke) all the way north to Alaska. The Godwits make only one stop along the way to rest their tired little wings. The rest stop is located in a particular estuarine environment in South Korea that has recently been irreparably altered by a new dam built upstream. The burning question for bird lovers is: whether the Godwits will be able to successfully complete their 20,000 mile journey without their half way rest stop? Will they make it back to New Zealand in safe numbers?
New Zealand is home to many endangered bird species so I will endeavor to first learn about, and then create a series of paintings to honor the birds that may not be around too much longer. I desire to take a step further in my art, making it more than pretty. I am not an artist who is driven to produce work that is edgy or raw. I love compositions that click, and the energy from a painting to be filled with thoughtfulness and mystery rather than steeped in politics or controversy. Channeling my creative juices towards a cause that I not only cherish but can try to render in a beautiful way, definitely leaves me itching to get down to my studio and start preparing panels.
The first layer of gesso was drying on one panel when I heard Murphy thunder his way down the steps.
“Hi,” he said sheepishly, as he peeked around the corner.
He knows I don’t like to be interrupted when I am in my studio. But today I stopped and walked outside to chat with him.
“What a beauty eh day!” I sang out.
“It’s supposed to start raining again tonight,” he moaned.
“Well then, we better go fishing right now,” I chirped.
“Yeah, yeah, it is perfect at the moment for fishing” he said.
“How long before you can be ready to go?” I asked him.
“Twenty minutes,” he replied.
“Will you help me get my dinghy in the water?” I pleaded.
“Sure, no worries,” he said.
I ran upstairs and put on my fishing duds, cut up bait, ala Stu, and ran back downstairs to change out my rod from soft bait lure to hook. I love to practice my knots.
Murphy came back too soon and began to tell me how I should rig my rod.
“You ought to try doing it my way, I catch heaps of fish with this setup,” Murphy boasted.
“I tie on a hook with a trace, and put the big sinker above the trace so when it hits the bottom the bait floats above it looking yummy to the snapper,” Murphy explained.
“I will try it for sure next time Murphy, I already have this tied on Stu’s way.” I tried to sound apologetic.
“See how I cut up my bait ahead of time so I don’t have to make a big mess in my dinghy,” I bragged.
“Oh, I don’t cut up my bait anymore,” Murphy told me.
“What do you do Murphy, bite it in half?” I laughed.
“Nah, I tear it in half so the fish aren’t wary when they see the exact cut a knife has made,” he said seriously, “it looks more natural.”
“Hmmmm,” I murmur. Don’t go there I thought to myself.
Right then Stu appeared stage left.
“The only thing to do today is go fishing,” Stu shouted cheerfully.
“We are going to beat you out there Mister,” I teased.
Murphy and I proceeded to the boat sheds at the far north end of the beach with all our oars, rods and tackle boxes tipping back and forth. On the edge of storm water gully that is dug into a large shell bank lives our nine foot Fatty Knees sailing dinghy. Next to the dinghy is our two man expedition kayak and further up towards the grass is our hot pink sit on top kayak that Scott uses to go out and check the big boat. We are fleet owners when it comes to small things that float.
The tide is almost full so it is easy to get my dinghy launched. As I rowed out towards the point I yelled back at Murphy, “you catch the big ones and I’ll catch the medium ones.” He was busy filling up his motor with fuel but gave me the head nod to acknowledge his agreement. When I first met Murphy, he modeled what he called the NZ head nod, so that I would be able to imitate it and thus hopefully fit in. We would give each other head nod greetings from our respective decks. He said people would think that I was cool if I could master the nonchalant head nod that he had perfected as a boy. He told me stories about how the head nod had saved him from being beaten up by the Black Power gang, because it made him look ferocious and not to be messed with.
The channel was calm and I plunked down my anchor and threw a couple of pieces of bait out into the water to find out how strong the current was running. The lazy current suggested we were approaching slack tide. Murphy putt putted past me, heading for the channel marker half way across to Poinui. Not five minutes passed before the sky clouded over and a breeze picked up. I put a large sprat on my hook and heaved it well away from the dinghy. There is a piece of teak with a hole drilled through it at the bow of the boat. This is where the mast goes when we sail this little beauty. Today it held my rod so that my hands were free to prepare addition traces that I would need if one of my hooks caught the bottom and broke off.
ZZZZZZZZ a fish hit my line and took off. I took my time reeling in the fish which would soon be our supper. This very respectable snapper measured eighteen inches. I looked for Murphy out by the marker. I caught this fish I before Murphy had reached his destination, and I looked towards the beach to see Stu was still trying to put his boat in the water.
I thought about trying my luck for catching a second fish, but reminded myself, “Nah, this is all we need.” I pulled up the anchor and rowed to shore. Rita saw me trying to muscle the dinghy up the shell bank and walked down to lend me a hand.
She took one look at my thin shirt and jeans and said, “You must be frozen; you don’t have the proper clothes on,”
“It’s true, my fingers are numb,” I whined.
“Did you come in so soon because you were cold?” she asked.
“No, I already caught our dinner,” I said trying not to sound too cheeky.
She helped me get my oars and gear down the beach to where Stu was launching his boat.
“Did you catch your quota already?” Stu teased.
“Got my dinner, that’s for sure,” I told him.
“Let’s see then,” he peered into my cooler.
“Very good fish,” he pronounced.
I proceeded to sing the jingle from the fishing show that we watch on Saturdays, “Out doors…with Kelley (I inserted my name instead of Jeff, the guy who hosts the show.)
I noticed that Stu was turning a boogie board over and over, closely scrutinizing the stretchy leash.
“Stu what’s the boogie board for?” I asked innocently.
“The car window is broken and I think it’s going to rain,” Stu said casually.
Rita and I looked at each other and cracked up in unison.
Stupid question. Naturally Stu would use a boogie board to keep the rain out of a broken car window, I thought. I walked home with a bounce in my step and a big fish in my chilly bin. (Kiwi for cooler) It is high time that I introduce you to a little of my Kiwi repertois. Murphy popped in when he returned a couple of hours later to find out why I came in so soon.
“I caught a big fish and that was that,” I told him.
“You’re kidding,” he said, “I only caught two small ones, and I was freezing out there the whole time.”
“Hey Murphy, get this…I caught a fish and came home before my clothes went through the entire wash cycle,” I laughed.
“Good on ya, mate,” he said.
I gave him the best head nod I could muster.
“You need a little work on that,” he chided.
Stu and Rita got back a while later and reported that they caught five snapper on the long line and four hand fishing. “Eight snapper and one Kahawai,” Stu yelled over.
As they say in this part of the world…”we will all have a good feed tonight.”
There is no doubt, this was a stellar day.
