I found a plastic bucket to use myself, thinking about the discussion we have had at home – plastic, really coming into circulation in the 1940’s for the first time, and about how it doesn’t decompose. So I brought the basket, now full of kelp, back home, the basket going into the recycling.
The little boy and his mother told me that they have watch utube videos and that it is possible to dry the kelp and put it in an omelette. “Good luck at getting me to do that, “ said Rebecca., when I got home and explained to her my new task. I don’t know why she is resistant.
She is never happier than when she brings home sushi from Fujiya. We occasionally have natto and what is life without a snack of seaweed: Kimmy, made from the finest Korean seaweed. She savours every bite of that while others are eating their chips.
I hadn’t checked the tide, not thinking I was going that way. So the water was lapping up against the drift wood. Little rivulets of water were flowing through the sand and into the sea. Some family who live on the brow of the hill have a wonderful set of steps going up to their house. The last set of steps that take them to the ocean were pulled up high enough that no one could use them. But I could see that they would easily swing down when someone from above wanted to use the beach, the same one we were walking on – so only their stairs were exclusive, not bay that I was enjoying. I ducked under a tree and it snagged the hat I was wearing. I held onto a large log and stepped on a smaller one at the place where the ocean did lap the shore and would have got my feet wet without the alternative path.
I stopped and watched a freighter on it was through Haro Straight.
My kelp is drying in my room. Rebecca says she will only eat it if it is flattened and salted.