No, not Jonathon Swift. (A Tale of a Tub, I read some Swift, somehow never read this one, but what a great title!) Today’s tales of a tub are actually tales with a tub as a major element, shared over dinner in Bar Harbor, the big city, okay, small town, closest to the Creek (Otter Creek).
TUB TALE ONE, Constance
Dennis and Reggie showed Joseph and Constance many fishing tricks, they were delighted to have an audience, and students who hung on every word. But they still didn’t catch many fish. Joseph was away one weekend, and Dennis and Reggie gave Constance all their attention. They helped her cast, loaned her their special lures, encouraged her to keep at it. She really listened, and caught a couple of gorgeous 18-24″ salmon. Beauties. She had a bit of help from her mentors unhooking them, but what a treat to bring home. She couldn’t wait to tell Joseph. He came back a day or so later, and Constance enthused about how Reggie and Dennis had shown her the finer points of casting, and how she had caught two amazing fish, and that they were keepers. Joseph went to the fridge and poked around, “But where are they?” he asked. “You kept them on ice didn’t you?”
“No, no” Constance replied. “Den and Reggie unhooked them for me, but didn’t kill them. And I couldn’t. They’re in the tub.” And indeed they were, swimming confusedly around, but alive and well.
TUB TALE TWO This one is mine
I used to dive, and still like to snorkle a bit. I had developed the habit of increasing my lung capacity by submerging in the tub, and holding my breath for three minutes, relaxing with visions of diving for oysters or sponges, checking my time on my watch. This is just something I do, and never thought about discussing. And so one evening I took a soak, and slipped under the surface for a few minutes. I stay quite still when I do this, I like to watch my hair drifting about. And so, content, quiet and peaceful I let the need for air begin to build, when my arm was yanked and I was pulled dripping from the water, astonished to see a tight-lipped face with worried eyes. “But, but, I was just practicing holding my breath!” I am not convinced he was amused.
Nature Log Twenty-mile bike ride, to Northeast Harbor, Sargeant Drive, saw a Pileated Woodpecker in a tree close to the road, a mink, came home and found a chipmunk in the house. We convinced him to leave. Fog and rain then sun, then fog and rain. Caught trout, released them.
