In the woods

Yesterday I made a second trip into the woods to remove ardisia. I filled up a can, as a did a couple of weeks ago, and put it out on the curb. Sandwiched in between two nights of freezing temperatures, yesterday seemed a good choice for going where snakes and ticks might be sleeping. The poison ivy, like most things, had put out a few new leaves, thinking it was spring, so I could see where it was and wasn't. I'll know tomorrow if I was successful in avoiding its oil.

 The woods stretch across the back of the property and reach forward on either side, with the back lawn in the middle. Last time I cleared on the south side, near the house. Because there is no fence, I cleared some of our neighbors' ardisia as well before I realized where I was. Yesterday I cleared on the back northwest corner, behind the compost bin. In addition to the ardisia, I found a nandina growing next to a young oak tree. It had already dropped its berries so I saved it for another day. As my can was filling, I could see another big clump of ardisia loaded with berries beyond the old fence that marks the western boundary of our property. There is an open place in the fence and I can walk right through with my can if I wish. No one has ever said no when I asked to clear plants that were impacting my yard. One time I dug up a poison ivy vine that was growing high into the branches of our neighbors' live oak and dropping berries into my flower bed.

I plan to clear a path through the woods from one side to the other. I have only been back there a few times in the nine years we have lived here. The first time was a revelation. There was a big network of burrows on the southwest corner, probably rabbit holes. Right on top of it was a pile of fence posts and rolls of chain link fencing. Perhaps it was left over from the small dog enclosure that used to be under a tree out back. It was a miserable little space, with a wooden doghouse crumbling. I took pleasure in dismantling it and digging up the posts. I dragged the remnants out of the woods and used the best of the posts and fencing to make three sides of a big compost bin in the back northwest corner, where it is concealed by the woods.

In the south side of the woods is the place where Lily is buried with her favorite toy, a piece of rope about seven inches long, and near her is Jeoffrey's skull. After the 2004 hurricanes, our neighbors found Jeff's remains. They were delicate in their handling of the discovery. First they brought us his collar and asked if we recognized it. They had seen our notice about Jeff's disappearance on the stop sign at the corner. Then they told us they had found more, and they took us to their back yard where they found Jeff's skull. There was the flat forehead and the broad cheeks, and the unmistakeable broken canine tooth. We laughed, thinking of his fighting ways and hoping the end was quick, not lying broken listening to us walk around every house in his territory calling his name.

I have been thinking about Jeff and Lily a lot lately as I see Nick and Daisy running across the yard for sheer joy. Jeff and Lily didn't run. They both had heart conditions and walked with a steady pace instead. Lily carried her pet rope around the house in this way every day for years, except for the year it disappeared. She took it out through the cat door, around the outside of the house, and left it on the front door step. She sang the whole time. The only other time we heard her sing, aside from carrying the pet rope around, was when our friends chanted from the Koran in our living room. Lily sang right along with them. The pet rope disappeared for a year when Bob put it in his pocket one Thanksgiving. He didn't wear those pants again until the next Thanksgiving, and there was the pet rope. He had forgotten he put it there, tidying up for guests, and so the mystery was solved. Lily took up carrying it around and singing as if it had only been missing a few days and not months.