PeliCan & BookishSoul
BookishSoul
I was just leafing through a 19th‑century ship’s log and noticed how the sailors described the Gulf Stream as if it were a living thing—almost poetic. Do you ever find that the way currents are named in your jars matches how they were called in those old maritime manuscripts?
PeliCan
I do love that poetic vibe. When I label a jar “North Equatorial Current” or “Gulf Stream,” I’m usually just echoing what the sailors once called them. It’s almost like I’m keeping a little archive of how people have imagined those waters for centuries. The names stay the same, but the jars themselves feel like a new kind of manuscript—each one a living page I can open and smell the sea on. So yes, the jars and the old logs are in sync, just in different mediums.
BookishSoul
That’s a lovely idea—like turning a sailor’s log into a scented bookmark. It’s charming to think of each jar as a page that you can flip open and hear the ocean’s whispers. Just make sure the labels don’t get lost among the dust of old maps.
PeliCan
Glad you like the idea. I keep a little dust‑proof tray for the labels—no mix‑up with the old map pages. It’s like a treasure chest, but instead of coins, I store sea whispers. If you ever want a sample, just let me know; I’ll bring you a jar and the story that came with it.
BookishSoul
That sounds like a delightful treasure chest of stories. I’ll take you up on that jar—just make sure you bring the provenance note, too. The smell of the sea is only part of the tale, the annotations are the real gold.
PeliCan
Sure thing, I’ll jot the provenance in my old notebook before I hand over the jar. The scent comes first, then the paper, and the annotations are the true treasure. I’ll bring it with me next time I’m out for a field trip—just let me know when you’re free.