Swamp Mama

Inevitably, every time I go to Hatteras someone says to me, “oh you’re so lucky, I wish I was going to the beach”.  Well, you just might want to reconsider. 

Since being here I’ve spent three days at the Laundromat which is 25 miles up the beach, painted, scraped, sanded, scrubbed, cooked, done some sewing and general repair of all things soft goods, just to mention a few things.  Admittedly, between times I have stolen long walks on the beach between the rain, blowing sand and gusty winds, and for this chance to commune with nature, well, apparently I would do just about anything.  I’ve also found about 30 coins in the surf….just garden variety us coins, darn it.

So the reason we’re in Hatteras this time is so that Steve can replace the roof on a commercial building, and so that we can do semi-annual maintenance on his Mom’s rental cottage which is one of my favorite places in the world – well, maybe next to southern France.  There’s always some work-related reason for our Outer Banks excursions.  Nice excuse, right?  Many shingles blew off some years ago in a hurricane and had never been replaced.  This weekend we (a term I use loosely) began this oversized job.  My job was to see to the dietary needs of the crew which I took quite seriously.  For lunch they had oversized sandwiches with lots of meat and cheese garnished with lettuce, tomato, avocado, fresh basil, onion, and spicy mustard.  I started to make brownies before realizing that we didn’t have any oil; found out that you can make brownie mix using coconut milk (not oil).  They actually turned out to be very tasty and much lower in fat and calories which was not my intention but a good idea to file for future reference.

Saturday was very gusty as Steve and his crew began the unenviable task of removing the old shingles and tar paper.  The wind was from the west which caused much of the debris to fly off the roof and land in the swamp behind the building.  In and amongst the swamp grass were large black pieces of tar paper and shingles, some impaled on the sharp ends of last year’s crisp stalks of grass. If you had an imaginative eye you could believe that thousands of black oversized butterflies were lighting just above the gooshiness of the swamp softly flapping their wings in the breeze.

I made the mistake of hanging around after showing up with sandwiches and other assorted edibles.  Steve asked if I would mind cleaning up around the building to which I replied happily, “sure”.  I had no idea what I had just said yes to. 

My first venture into the swamp was relatively routine – just bend over 10,000 times an hour  to retrieve shards of black paper and shingles and pick up anything else I happened upon, whatever left over stuff might be there from prior hurricane flooding.  I tried not to look up too much as I knew I’d feel overwhelmed by the scope of my job.  As I often do without realizing, I’d count each piece as I put it in my small bucket then walk around the building and empty it in the dumpster.  I started near the back of the building where there was plenty of grass where my feet wouldn’t sink.  I was working my way up to the less desirable area.  Mind you, this was an unplanned adventure – I was not wearing boots, just crocs with no sox.  I entertained the idea of snakes since I had seen two moccasins last year in the adjacent creek while kayaking, but that’s a story for another day.  Happily it’s too early in the season for mosquitos, I’m sure I convened with plenty of their eggs.  So day one was just a back pain; no snakes, no issues except filthy blistered feet and some scratches.

Day two got a lot more interesting.  I found some old shoes at the house and stole a pair of purple socks from Steve’s overflowing sock drawer, rolled up my jeans because I didn’t want to get them dirty since I had not brought extra clothes from the cottage up the beach, somehow I didn’t realize that I was staying at our house in Frisco for a few days (yes, you can start laughing about now) and went to work.   This time I had a yard cart with a big hole in the bottom and a crack up the middle.  I was so happy to have more than my little mop bucket and it actually turned out to be perfect despite its handicap.  I ventured farther into the muck.  I thought about quick sand, spiders, snakes, my clean pants as I began to sink.  My old white shoes turned black, my purple socks turned polka dotted and my legs were already speckled.  For the first few hours things were working, as I got closer to the area where the stupid briers live along with all the dead trees and pointy palmettos.  Despite the sunny warm weather I had to put my jacket on because my arms were getting too scratched.  I remember thinking about sitting in a nail salon trying to explain to the technician what I’d done to my cuticles.  Oh my god, the things that go through my mind when left to my own devices.  I think I need an ipod.

The fun was just beginning, much to my surprise.  Behind all the briars, overgrown shrubbery, and angry palmettos were thousands of shingles.  My challenge was a) getting to them to remove them and b) figuring out how to survive in the meantime.  You’d have to know that my perfectionist tendencies kick in when I have a job to do.  So what that you can’t see those shingles behind that curtain of briars, they have to be removed.  I haven’t cussed that much in years.  The briars attacked my jacket, my pants and my skin.  The palmettos poked my hands mercilessly.  I got angry.  I was thrashing about all by myself back in the swamp, only occasionally did I consider that if someone happened to be watching they’d be laughing themselves silly.  I’m pretty sure I had some witnesses; there were three guys with Steve on the roof above me…

I decided it would be a good idea to roll the cart around in the crawl space which worked very nicely until I bumped my head so hard that I saw stars.  Expletive, expletive.  At this point I’m angrily talking to everything around me – the mud, the swamp grass, Steve (although he wasn’t nearby), and most notably the briars.  God I hate those things and I do try not to hate God’s gifts.

Many hours later I stood wearily on the bank of the swamp and surveyed its restored beauty.  The big black butterflies had all migrated to the dumpster, and the swamp was cleared of hurricane garbage that it had held for years, and I got to play in the mud. 

So now, you can just call me Swamp Mama, and when you think you’re missing all the fun at the beach…well, maybe you are if you like to play in the mud too.

Many thank to Forbes Candy and Gifts Coffee and Tea Co. on Route 12 in Rodanthe.  The Strawberry Tea is fantastic, lots of taffy, chocolate and really great muffins!!! http://www.forbescandies.com/