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Thursday, July 27, 2017
Wednesday, July 26, 2017 4:49 PM
Summer for many of us means a gambol at the beach, a quick plunge in cold water and a sunburn to show for it all. But for a lobster, summer means ... sex. Lobster procreation is not the stuff of romantic movies. There are no . . .
  • Oh, I’ve got the blues so bad, it hurts down to my bones!” In fact, it’s the height of summer, the blackflies have taken a short sabbatical, and I’ve eaten my fill of strawberries so, other than the disgraceful antics going on in Washington . . .
  • The season for halibut fishing in Maine closes for the year at the end of this month. Commercial fishermen with a state permit may catch up to 25 halibut during the course of the two-month season. Those fish must be greater than 41 inches . . .
  • The young woman hauled a small, extremely grubby child out of his car seat. She placed the fretful boy on the front step of their apartment and began neatly washing his face and hands using a water bottle and the edge of her cotton . . .
  • It’s not a name that trips off the lips: Calanus finmarchicus. But if you happen to be a North Atlantic right whale, it’s a name at the tip, so to speak, of your tongue. Calanus finmarchicus is a plump . . .
  • I’ve grown very fond of my rain jacket during the past few weeks. It’s a typical yellow slicker, slightly too long in the arms, and when I wear it, as I have nearly every day, I become a well-protected turtle. The real turtles . . .
  • Well, they did it. At its April 17 meeting in Connecticut the New England Fisheries Management Council reaffirmed the economically vital place that lobster fishing has in this state by exempting lobstermen from . . .
  • On one side of the small park four teenage boys practiced synchronized moves to the sounds of The B-52’s 1979 hit “Rock Lobster.” On the other side, a set of eight young people moved through an intricate Mexican folk dance . . .
  • My younger sister has red hair and fair skin. Born 18 months after me, she passed through a period as a toddler referred to with awed reverence in my family as a “difficult” time. Long months ticked by during which my sister balked at the . . .
  • I’ve always had a mixed relation to formality. On one hand, I was taught to address people older than myself as Mr. or Mrs. until they told me otherwise. On the other hand, I’ve never had trouble asking questions of just about anyone . . .
  • th, the coast of Maine was a little blah this year. The landscape looked like the grey, brown and black scenes of my youth in Rhode Island, where winter . . .
  • When I was a pre-teen I hung out with a few female friends. We walked to middle school together and gossiped with each other at lunch hour. We were a mini-pack. It was fun to be part of a group. One morning the gossip was about . . .
  • My eyes are misbehaving. The morning starts clear and sharp but by mid-afternoon the computer screen grows hazy. The words in the book I’m reading begin to blur. I rub my malfunctioning orbs to clear the film that seems to coat them . . .
  • Bad dreams have always troubled me. They take the form appropriate to my age and general level of anxiety. When I was quite young, it was Frankenstein waiting to grab me from around a darkened corner. When I was in college . . .
  • Yes, it’s getting a little nippy outside. Our hemisphere is tilted as far from the sun as it will be this year, the jet stream is drawing bitter air down from Canada, and the wind off the ocean is fierce and strong. Without my wool socks . . .
  • We have enjoyed a remarkably mild fall on the coast this fall. That’s probably not surprising, given that we just had a remarkably warm and dry summer. Personally, I have no issue with keeping the house’s heat off for a while . . .
  • It was a beautiful afternoon. The sky was an unblemished blue and Rockland Harbor was as flat as an ironed sheet, a perfect afternoon for a walk on the breakwater. After all, I had waited in line for some time to cast my vote . . .
  • You can tell a lot from a person’s fingernails (don’t look at mine!). Fingernails are made of a tough protein called keratin (from the Greek keras, meaning horn). If you are suffering from anemia, your fingernails may be white at . . .
  • Despite the date on the calendar, the sun was strong on my skin this weekend. As a warm-blooded creature, I don’t need the sun to stoke my metabolism but, boy, it sure felt good. That same sunlight is kicking off a . . .
  • A long time ago I had a friend named Fred. We were students at the same time at the University of Rhode Island. Fred was married to Carol. He loved her, sailing and whales. In the course of his field work on humpbacks he spent . . .
  • The proclamation last week by President Obama of the new Northeast Canyons and Seamounts Marine National Monument in New England protected 4,913 square miles of the Atlantic Ocean at the southern edge of Georges Bank . . .
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