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Looking east and west of the dockmaster's quarters, we don't see other homes, not exactly. With the deciduous leaves down a bit this time of year, we get a glimpse of one home to the east, and at night sometimes we see a small cheery light in a seemingly distant window. We're not exactly isolated, but the woodlands do help to narrow our focus a bit. We've become very introspective in a landscaping sort of way, moving, perhaps, into a zone of extreme grounds keeping. A lot of energy is expended on the grounds. In the last few months we've taken down two dead trees, cleared brush from the woods, dug a pansy bed, increased our wood pile significantly, raked, burned, and fought heroic battles with the giant woody vines that try to choke our trees. Of course, it's not all hard work and not all the hard work is without fun. When the dead trees came down, their twin stumps looked like upside-down legs and hips, so we took the stump down to as near the ground as possible and pulled it over to the house where I could scrub it clean, let it dry, and, someday, turn it into a quirky garden bench. Pulling brush out of the woods isn't without a bit of whimsy, too. I discovered that it's fun to pull the brush with the tractor while pretending to be in a parade, waving to the crowd and throwing candy to the kids. Sometimes when I'm out making pictures of the creek or fishing off the piers and hoping not to catch anything, my world view broadens a bit to include Pamlico across the creek, and I begin to wonder what our neighbors on the other bank think about all this activity. I like to imagine that the conversation goes something like this: "Yeah, those new people across the creek are a little green. The man cut down two trees and then the woman washed them!" Who knows what they think about my recurring role as grand marshal. All I can say for sure is I won't be out in my skivvies checking the compost pile first thing in the morning again.
March 2, 2003.
We didn't see them ourselves, but two of our slipholders report seeing a squad of dolphin and two bald eagles yesterday along the way from the Bay River going to the Neuse. Lucky them!
March 3, 2003
In anticipation of warmer days, we've been out in the light rains raking and clearing brush while the days are still cool. It's warm enough, though, to wake up some of the hibernating reptilian residents of the Boonedocks. We unearthed a good number of skinks this week. They're really fast, so a positive identification wasn't possible, but they were probably five-line skinks. One brood of youngsters was particularly alarmed when we cut down the dead foliage and moved the rocks under which they'd been foraging. It kind of makes your heart skip a beat when you uncover a mass of skinks, let me tell you! Before you see those little tiny legs, there's just a moment when you think you've uncovered a nest of snakes. I jumped so fast it made the dockmaster snicker.
March 8, 2003
We spotted our first turtle of the season - he was making the crossing on Fork Point Road yesterday. Well, I say "he," but really who knows?
March 9, 2003
We keep noticing our firsts: first skink, first turtle, first mosquito (well, paradise does have a few pests), and yesterday our first bumblebee. Poor bee was a bit confused - you see, the dockmaster left up the big flower-like Christmas lights this year, anticipating that, turned on, they might help a night sailor find the marina a bit more easily. Our bumblebee was pretty sure those bulbs were flowers and buzzed around them for a good quarter hour before he became the wiser.
March 10, 2003
Our first winter at the Boonedocks has been interesting; our first almost-spring is turning out to be exhilirating! We walk along a path here or there and are surprised to discover gladioli or day lilies. Driving out Fork Point yesterday, I saw a clump of demure snowflakes where seemingly only weeds had grown just last week. It's like Cracker Jacks for grown-up gardeners - we just want to hurry up and get to the bottom of the box and find out what's there. Spring, though, is holding her breath a little while longer, making us wait for the big show.
March 13, 2003
As Winter draws back his cloak and Spring skips into the Boonedocks, we are delighted with more discoveries. A few weeks of clearing brush, marking some doomed trees for cutting, staking up less-doomed trees, marking paths, mulching, vine-cutting, and acquiring a number of thorn-related injuries have produced a friendly woodland near the road. We are delighted to discover a number of maple trees growing strong and true, and the afternoon sun shining through their young translucent leaves yesterday was magical. Along a path we marked in the woods, we've discovered two somethings(?), maybe blueberries(?), covered with tiny, delicate, bell-shaped blossoms. What we believe is probably bamboo or creek cane is coming up 4-5 inches high overnight in the marsh, and growing just as quickly once up. Deliberately planted bulbs are up in our pansy bed, but a million more naturalized bulbs are up and threatening to bloom all over the place. Every day Spring brings brilliant gifts to the Boonedocks - we wish you were here.
March 23, 2003
At the Boonedocks, we spend a lot of time considering light. Long years of condo and apartment living have made us novice gardeners all over again. We pore over plant books and seed catalogs trying to figure out if we have the right kind of dappled sunlight to promote vigorous growth in a picky perennial. We impose on our neighbors and compare their plant groups and available light to our own. We try to calculate the summer path of the sun, and we notice the number of degrees the sunrise has shifted in just three months. With our focus on the quantity and quality of light, sometimes it's nice to think about the imposing presence of darkness. Nights here can be inky black or surprisingly phosphorescent - sometimes you can see nothing beyond the softly lighted house perimeter and sometimes every oyster shell, rock, and tree bud shines eerily in the moonlight. The best moments, perhaps, are those few magical minutes between day and night when the light seeps out of the sky leaving behind a wide, briefly brilliant chromatic wake. In those few minutes all the quasi-scientific musings of the novice gardener are drowned out by a spontaneous and instinctive joy of darkness rising.
March 26, 2003
Critter count update: Saw the heron back on Fork Point Road over the weekend; a few deer have been seen on Fork Point nearest Straight Road this week; while retrieving an errant wheel cover from a ditch on Straight Road, the dockmaster startled a sleeping snake but nobody, including the dockmaster, stuck around long enough for a species identification; an army of earthworms were turned over with the compost; chameleons are out in full force - in particular look for them in the trees near the pansy bed and in the flower box by the showerhouse, they seem to prefer those spots.
March 27, 2003
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