{"id":69875,"date":"2021-04-20T22:30:00","date_gmt":"2021-04-21T06:30:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.juneauempire.com\/news\/planet-alaska-gathering-red-seaweed\/"},"modified":"2021-04-21T17:51:29","modified_gmt":"2021-04-22T01:51:29","slug":"planet-alaska-gathering-red-seaweed","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.juneauempire.com\/news\/planet-alaska-gathering-red-seaweed\/","title":{"rendered":"Planet Alaska: Gathering red seaweed"},"content":{"rendered":"\n\t\t\t\t
Whenever I need some peace, I head to the beach with my dogs. This morning is perfect because a spring storm has just dissipated. The repetitive motion of looking down and around, of cold seaweed between my fingers, of walking carefully over slick rocks, absorbs me into the beach world. Today, I’m looking for red seaweed, Palmaria mollis, also called ribbon seaweed or dulse, and is from the Rhodophyta family. There are thousands of red algae species found around the world. It grows in the lower intertidal zone in bays and exposed coastlines. It’s a reddish brown color which makes it stand out from other seaweeds. The fronds are narrow and grow up to 10 inches long. They typically feel leathery to the touch or papery if it’s newer growth.<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t
I bite off a piece—it’s tender and salty. As I gather the red seaweed I think about how spring is arriving in fits and starts this year. One day there’s a flock of robins in the grass and then next day, or even the same day, there’s a snow squall. It’s as if Mother Nature can’t decide if it’s winter or spring. In Sámi culture, though, this undecidedness is a season unto itself, because we have eight seasons, not four, and we’re currently enjoying Spring-winter, or gidádálvve, which is March\/April. Gidádálvve brings both the sun and more light plus snow dripping from the trees while robins chirp from the woods. The seasonal shift is not abrupt— it’s a gradual and hopeful awakening, like a bear yawning or a robin testing the mud for warmth.<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t