It is a subtle shift that occurs, between periods of time when words disappear into a hazy background while other preoccupations hold the foreground, and periods of time where a space opens up right in the centre for words to move into and claim for their own. At present, a jumble of words are tumbling over each other to be written. The overly linear side of my brain would like to organise them into a coherent order; complete the Bob Talbot posts, write some welcome updates on Peggy Stap and then progress to writing about Pieter Folkens and climate change, or the lack of it. However, aided and abetted by the Bob-cat still evading my attempts on completion, each time I sit down to write, I feel the other flexible, non-linear, meandering side of my brain (must be the right side) stepping forwards and moving me into non-logical places.
And so it is that today, while I had every conscious intention to write about Peggy Stap and our adventures together searching for cetaceans (aka whales) in Monterey Bay, I am pulled into a minor digression about her black and white research subjects which she calls her ‘dates to the prom’, none other than the fantastically named KILLER WHALES.
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Amanda Bank's Blog