The back bay's warming up--the quahogs are feeding again.
The sun's rays are no longer just glancing off the Earth around here--we're warming up. Algae grow, fusing carbon dioxide and water into sugars, bound by sunlight. A bed of clams lies just under Richardson Sound, a few of them tossed back by my hand last summer, eating the algae.
Eating is a religious act--we eat other creatures, other creatures feed on us. We pretend otherwise at our peril.
I teach biology--we use words…