Thanks, Dan Burr!

Hi everyone,

I’ve told you about the enormous grass carp that prowl the shallows of Goose Lake and crowd out native fish vying for the same vegetation. My thanks to Dan Burr for showing off the one he recently caught on one of his own outings in Idaho.13133276_10206660510574815_2495610837047975723_n I’m guessing that ours are approximately the same size. One afternoon I stood on our bank and counted thirteen of them within fifty yards of us, some a few feet away.

If you aren’t familiar with Dan Burr’s work, check out PIRATES PIRATESand COWBOYS,Cowboys cover, 4-9-12 which we did together. PIRATES went on to be chosen by Missouri Center for the Book to represent Missouri at the National Book Fair in Washington D.C. Dan and I want to do other books together but haven’t come up with the right idea yet.

A picture and a poem

Hi everyone,

I’ve missed you! But did I ever get a lot done this past week. I need more time still but at least I’m breathing easier again about some rather looming deadlines. I think I might get it all done. I hope you’ll understand if I limp along for a while longer but I’ll post more often and work back into a regular schedule as quickly as I can.

I thought I would come back on with this beautiful photograph taken by our son Jeff Harrison. He was sitting alone on a dock on the Nehalem River along Oregon’s west coast. In his own words,

“I have a chair, a Volker with beer, and a bag of peanuts. A shaggy dog is staring at me intently, hoping he has better luck than the gulls at getting another peanut or two. There are seabirds chattering everywhere, fighting for scraps. It’s cool and grey, with a foggy mist around the mountains. My crab pot is tied off next to me. It sure reminds me of Crabbing in Pensacola off of the bridge. Why can even happy memories make you sad?”

I love this picture and was moved by Jeff’s description of the moment and how he was feeling. With his permission I wrote a poem to go with it and am posting it with his lovely photograph today. Thanks, Son. I love you.

On the dock on the bay

River Spell
David L. Harrison

Birds sob for handouts
to an empty dock,
a worn arrow pointing
toward sadness.

On the blue gray Nehalem
foggy mist wraps the mountain,
serves the lone thinker
a thin broth of wistful thoughts
tinted the color of the day.

When blue gray rules
and mist dampens mountains,
memories spring up
like vines traveling both directions
till sun returns with its golden eraser
to wipe the slate clean
for another day.