Steve & I are The Deadly Duo. Sort of like superheroes in reverse. We feed off each others' visions, both feel the need to make things right -- right being the way we think they should be. And it all creates more work.
Heaving rocks, mind drifting, he would kill me if he knew what I was thinking (so I dare not say it out loud), because then it would become part of his vision, and already, without lifting a finger, it would become another project in his eyes, and he wouldn't rest until it became reality.
....I don't see myself scrambling up this dock in 10 years. He's still enjoying hauling the boat around, but I'd be happier if we didn't have to, and it's only mid-summer. Ditto planning lunch, getting ice, blah, blah. Love the island, but I'd rather have a more permanant situation where we can live all summer, and not need a boat to get to work. But he's tired of paying all those land taxes. There's a property with two little summer cabins on the lake for sale. Maybe we could rent one in summer just to make up the tax money. Look at the pix. Good location, but (here's the kicker) they need work!
OMG! Please let me shut my mouth! At least until November, when prices will be lower...
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
On the Rocks
Piling stone upon stone is a very zen experience. My mind gets to wander while I'm doing that repetitive thing. It's best not to look up too much, just fling rocks underhand at the shore, or I'll realize just how much there still is to bulwark. I've found it's best to focus on just one tree, and plan on reaching and surrounding that tree with rocks. So as I move from one outcropping to another, in a very real sense I'm saving the trees. Which is where my mind starts to wander...
As opposed to piling rocks around a tree to save it and the shoreline, buying carbon offsets sounds like a first cousin to buying indulgences, which sounds similar to "adopting" an overseas orphan, or naming a star. All those are bought with money, and are intangible and unprovable. As I'm heaving rocks, I visualize W.C. Fields with this stack of pictures of trees at different stages: sapling, one year old, five years old, etc., and his mailing list: "Send this sucker his 2-year old tree picture". Or kids: "Send that sucker his 5 year old orphan picture." And stars: "Sure, your star is 'officially' named. Can't see it with the naked eye? Too bad. Can I interest you in a telescope?"
Meanwhile, I've done about 80' of shoreline already. And you can touch the trees.
As opposed to piling rocks around a tree to save it and the shoreline, buying carbon offsets sounds like a first cousin to buying indulgences, which sounds similar to "adopting" an overseas orphan, or naming a star. All those are bought with money, and are intangible and unprovable. As I'm heaving rocks, I visualize W.C. Fields with this stack of pictures of trees at different stages: sapling, one year old, five years old, etc., and his mailing list: "Send this sucker his 2-year old tree picture". Or kids: "Send that sucker his 5 year old orphan picture." And stars: "Sure, your star is 'officially' named. Can't see it with the naked eye? Too bad. Can I interest you in a telescope?"
Meanwhile, I've done about 80' of shoreline already. And you can touch the trees.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Stix & Stones
We have two major problems on the island (well, three if you count the always present logistical problem of getting anything on or off it ) erosion of the shoreline on three sides from the waves caused by boats' wakes', and the large piles of wood & other debris with no place to put it. The biggest pile actually has the demolished old outhouse, complete with toilet seat, various hand towel dispensers and other detritus.
So this weekend was spent putting a dent in both problems. We figured out that, if I started hoisting rocks from the lake bed up on the edge of the shoreline, eventually it would become a smaller version of those old stone jetties we had on the beaches when I was a kid. (Probably now those same jetties would be politically incorrect, and I'm betting those that haven't been boardwalked over now have, besides the Danger signs, maybe a rubber coating on the sharp edges, and soft playground sand to land on if, in the unlikely occurence of a kid actually fishing or playing on them, he should slip -- oops! is "he" too gender specific?). Ow, these run-on sentences and digressions are giving me a headache!
Anyway, I spent two blissful days hauling and heaving rocks. Along the way, I re-learned a science fact I had long forgotten: rocks weigh less in water. At the same time it disproved "no pain, no gain". Lots of rocks, a pretty good start to our erosion plan, and no pain. And I stayed cool in the knee-high water, to boot.
Steven decided to burn the wood. Not knowing if woodburning was "allowed", we decided to call it a campfire, and practiced our mea culpas in case we should need them. By the end of the weekend, most of the outhouse was gone.
But the best part about owning an island is that there's very little government, policing or regulating going on in practice -- it's too hard for them to get there. Might just elect ourselves King and Queen, maybe secede from the Union...
So this weekend was spent putting a dent in both problems. We figured out that, if I started hoisting rocks from the lake bed up on the edge of the shoreline, eventually it would become a smaller version of those old stone jetties we had on the beaches when I was a kid. (Probably now those same jetties would be politically incorrect, and I'm betting those that haven't been boardwalked over now have, besides the Danger signs, maybe a rubber coating on the sharp edges, and soft playground sand to land on if, in the unlikely occurence of a kid actually fishing or playing on them, he should slip -- oops! is "he" too gender specific?). Ow, these run-on sentences and digressions are giving me a headache!
Anyway, I spent two blissful days hauling and heaving rocks. Along the way, I re-learned a science fact I had long forgotten: rocks weigh less in water. At the same time it disproved "no pain, no gain". Lots of rocks, a pretty good start to our erosion plan, and no pain. And I stayed cool in the knee-high water, to boot.
Steven decided to burn the wood. Not knowing if woodburning was "allowed", we decided to call it a campfire, and practiced our mea culpas in case we should need them. By the end of the weekend, most of the outhouse was gone.
But the best part about owning an island is that there's very little government, policing or regulating going on in practice -- it's too hard for them to get there. Might just elect ourselves King and Queen, maybe secede from the Union...
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Who Knew?
It's been busy in real life. In "Island Life", we spend a lot of time sitting on the swing, thinking about improvements. I told Steve he might as well decide (yes, it's late in coming to the realization) that he Does Stuff, and is only happy when either doing or planning on doing. So time not spent on the swing has consisted of me pruning every stray vine and burning debris, while Steve has dug holes.
Yes, the man has been happily digging holes by hand for weekends now. If you squint and don't notice the grey hair and other signs of age, he looks just like an 8-year-old trying to dig to China. Dirty, sweaty, and smiling. I mostly just shut up & let him dig.
By now he's decided we need a deck attached to the shack which will eventually morph into a real cabin, complete with glass and a roof that isn't in imminent danger of collapse. I will grant that every time we return to the island, another piece of the building is lying on the ground, which allows me to continue to burn.
Aside: I figured out if I spread the ash from the fire pit, it will sweeten the soil. Only problem is, the island is being eroded by waves from passing boats, and one whole side has lots of fern and other acid-loving plants growing, which are keeping the island together. So I have to be careful where I spread the ash, because we don't want to disturb the ferns. Meanwhile I'm busy searching the net for plants that hold soil and don't need much care, to put on the opposite side. And we're trying to figure out a quick & dirty way to break the waves to stop future erosion. Did I say thank you already to Rachel Carson?
Another logistical problem we've pondered whilst swinging is how to get materials to the island in our little boat. A raft? A barge? A couple of rafts which we could lash together and use as a dock when it's not hauling? But seriously, how much raft, driver, and material can a 35 hp. motor on a 12' boat pull? How about a pontoon boat? That could carry materials, the whole fam damily on one trip, and be used as a raft or deck while stationary! So do we really need a deck at all? Still, the hunt is on for a cheap but water-worthy pontoon boat, and ironically, I've become the one to scour the want-ads -- me, who has never driven a boat or even started a motor on one.
And like that hypocrite Al Gore, who lives in a gigundo house (and soon will need two!), our carbon footprint is getting bigger, which wouldn't be a problem except that now I'm aware of it.
Yes, the man has been happily digging holes by hand for weekends now. If you squint and don't notice the grey hair and other signs of age, he looks just like an 8-year-old trying to dig to China. Dirty, sweaty, and smiling. I mostly just shut up & let him dig.
By now he's decided we need a deck attached to the shack which will eventually morph into a real cabin, complete with glass and a roof that isn't in imminent danger of collapse. I will grant that every time we return to the island, another piece of the building is lying on the ground, which allows me to continue to burn.
Aside: I figured out if I spread the ash from the fire pit, it will sweeten the soil. Only problem is, the island is being eroded by waves from passing boats, and one whole side has lots of fern and other acid-loving plants growing, which are keeping the island together. So I have to be careful where I spread the ash, because we don't want to disturb the ferns. Meanwhile I'm busy searching the net for plants that hold soil and don't need much care, to put on the opposite side. And we're trying to figure out a quick & dirty way to break the waves to stop future erosion. Did I say thank you already to Rachel Carson?
Another logistical problem we've pondered whilst swinging is how to get materials to the island in our little boat. A raft? A barge? A couple of rafts which we could lash together and use as a dock when it's not hauling? But seriously, how much raft, driver, and material can a 35 hp. motor on a 12' boat pull? How about a pontoon boat? That could carry materials, the whole fam damily on one trip, and be used as a raft or deck while stationary! So do we really need a deck at all? Still, the hunt is on for a cheap but water-worthy pontoon boat, and ironically, I've become the one to scour the want-ads -- me, who has never driven a boat or even started a motor on one.
And like that hypocrite Al Gore, who lives in a gigundo house (and soon will need two!), our carbon footprint is getting bigger, which wouldn't be a problem except that now I'm aware of it.
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