How well I remember
That bountiful season
A swaying bucket
And a noisy gumboot stride.
Strolling across Haig Street
Accompanied with, a handful of tips
From the local betting shop
And a wide grin.
Uncle with the noisy gumboots
I never forgot your stories
Pounds of bountiful whitebait
Running into your net.
While you were
Frittering away hours
Even before sunrise
During the whitebait season
We were waiting your arrival.
For you clearly
Were a welcome visitor
From across Haig Street.
In unison, we yelled
Uncle's arrived
He has his bucket
Full of whitebait, for sure.
My eyes grew larger
With tummy rumbles
When I saw that bucket
In fritter antiscipation.
How did you cook your bait,
With egg or onion
Or did you eat them straight?
Mum had a few good ideas.
In her box of recipes
Ending the day we did
With a plate of fritters
Full of your whitebait.
It sounds lovely, Suzanne 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Not sure if this is a repeat from you, Sue?
LikeLike
It sounds lovely, Suzanne 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks very much, Sue. I am enjoying writing “poems” or short bursts of words to tell a story 🙂
LikeLike
Marvellous memories
LikeLiked by 1 person
The whitebait fever never got to me thank goodness. Though I enjoy eating fish just not catching them.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Love the poem and the photo, Suzanne.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks very much, Tracy, I enjoyed writing it. Not all our family members were looking forward to those fritters. My sister said she required all eyes to be removed before one entered her mouth.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love the joyful anticipation in your poem, but I only ever ordered whitebait once (in my pre-vegetarian days). I obviously hadn’t known what they were like and just couldn’t eat them so John had to come to the rescue. Can’t remember what he had, but it must have been more acceptable to me.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thanks very much, Anabel, I enjoyed writing it. I was trying to find a different subject from ‘blossoms’ and pleased I found another. Whitebait is like gold now, very expensive and doesn’t live up to the hype. Nowadays, we have more vegetarian meals than not.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Right, only two months to catch the catch of the year. I have a friend who lives for this season. I’ve loved my few whitebait excursions with her at Otaki Beach.
LikeLiked by 1 person
The whitebaiters are a tight wee community and whitebaiting has become a sort of religion. Not for me and as an adult I have never indulged often, as they don’t hold the same appeal now.
LikeLiked by 1 person
That can’t be very appealing as an outsider. My friend has for about 15 years thrown a whitebait fest for all her friends just before Christmas, the most wonderfully generous event imaginable. So I have very warm feelings there.
LikeLiked by 1 person
What a lovely generous and one to treasure, and I’m sure you generously reciprocate with your friendship.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Not sure what whitebait might be, exactly. Your poem evokes a scene, though.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Eilene, they are the larvae of a 11cm fish and these species are born in freshwater, swept out to sea with the tide and return to rivers and streams in spring as whitebait.
They were so plentiful when we were children. I was never tempted to be a whitebaiter and never enjoyed catching fish. Eating them is a different story.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Not unlike Anabel, I was curious, but…ugh! Not for me. But I love the frisson of bubbling words 🤗💙
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks Jo pleased you enjoyed it. Funnily enough my sister would not eat them unless someone gutted them, safe to say I had her share or was it someone else 🙂
LikeLike
🤣💙
LikeLiked by 1 person
This is a wonderful descriptive poem. Memories of your past Suzanne? I used to order whitebait as a starter often when I lived in SA. Deep fried in batter they were delicious.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh, thanks, very much, Jude. Yes, based on memories of when we lived in Haig St, and Uncle Fred and Auntie Sylvia lived across the road. Some good times living in Whakatane. Plus, I wanted to write about something other than blossoms.
Whitebait is so expensive now that I don’t bother with it. Those fritters were tasty 😊
LikeLiked by 1 person
Great poem. I think like your sister, I would need all the eyes to be removed. 👍
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you and good luck with the dissection 😉
LikeLiked by 1 person
What a lovely poem. I appreciate a poem that tells a story and creates a mood that the reader can feel.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks very much for the positive feedback which is appreciated.
LikeLike