Thanks, Barb, for the Memory (and the picture)

One summer, while we still lived 'back home' in Newfoundland, my husband repaired a small boat for a summer resident. Wooden boats don't do well in the sun, so it was the owner's suggestion that Howard use the boat for the summer, as he would prefer it be kept in the water.

What beautiful mornings that boat gave us! We would get up before dawn, when the sea was as still as a mirror, and head out with our jiggers. Sitting on the swell of the ocean, waiting in silence for the first gullible cod to nibble the lure, we would hear the world wake up gently around us.

The first glow in the eastern sky would be accompanied by other early risers - the sea gulls, calling their mournful good mornings to the world. Then, if we listened carefully, we would hear the woosh of a whale spouting in the distance - if we were truly lucky, it would come closer, but just hearing and knowing it was there was good enough for me. (And yes, it would be a 'woosh,' not a 'whoosh').Then, before we knew it, there would be a brilliant sun in the sky, and the sounds of nature all around us. These were times when I was actually glad Howard wasn't a chatterbox, and times when I actually wasn't a chatterbox, although there are those of you who would never believe it.

Silence has its golden times, and these early mornings were certainly golden.

I did break the silence one morning though, when I pulled a gigantic 'cod' to the gunnel of the boat, only to see two big fat lips that looked like bike tires and two beady eyes staring up at me hungrily - you can't scream and run in a boat, so I had to make do with a scream and once again Howard came to my rescue, shaking the catfish (?) off the hook and releasing it. Wikipedia calls the catfish 'charmingly ugly.' I disagree. Whoever wrote that didn't have one staring in their eyes.

I found a lot of images of seacats online, but none of them as scary as the one I caught. This was closest:

but it's only a sketch. Just combine that one with the next one, and you can imagine the fright I got:

Cod were plentiful then, although it was getting near the Moratorium that harmed a lot of lives, and that was the summer we ate fish at least once a day - fried for breakfast, which the boys loved, or stewed or baked for supper.

My thanks, Barb for the memory - and I'm stealing your picture too ...