Yesterday marked two years since we officially moved into our house! The occasion was also heralded by the achievement of my long-standing dream to successfully get our rowboat into the pond.
During our first spring season in the house, in 2021, I rather optimistically moved the boat from the shed down to the shallow end of the pond. And there it stayed, like a picturesque overgrown lawn ornament, all through the summer and fall, until we brought it back up to the shed for winter storage. I thought about not being bringing it down there this spring; after all, it didn't seem to do much besides being picturesque except accumulate weeds and lots of spiders. But I've increasingly felt like that pond owes me for all I do to take care of it -- clearing the overflow drain of sticks, dead reeds, clumps of duckweed; weeding the shallow end during this summer's drought; wading back in in my ridiculous green plastic overalls after the water returned to rip out the weeds that stubbornly refused to drown. The pond owed me some joy, and joy I would have! Oh, and I also wanted to see if I could cut some of the dead and dying reeds that were falling into the water (and which would soon become more blockage for me to remove from the drain). So, pleasure and practicality combined, which I think is fairly on brand for me.
Sean has never been particularly interested in this, but he agreed to "supervise" on a reasonably warm October morning. We had to haul the boat out of its weedy nest first, then do a little weed-whacking and use a pole saw to cut some of the invasive reeds that had spread into the "launch" part of the water. It still wasn't quite enough space, but I waded in and Sean used a little force to shove the boat through the weeds, et voila! What I was surprised by was how easy it was to get into the rowboat and maneuver around. I think that was a lot of what was holding me back from trying; I thought it would either be unstable and I'd go ass over teakettle, or there wouldn't be enough water for it to have clearance. In case of the first, I had acquired the very sexy life jacket seen in the photo (covering the equally sexy hip waders), and for the second, I was very mistaken how little water the boat needed. I was even able to "come alongside" the shallow end, where the water's probably only 18-24" deep.
There were two oars in the shed, but I quickly realized that without oarlocks, there was too much risk of dropping an oar in the drink, so I stowed one and just alternate sides to move around. I went into the center of the pond (and saw the little turtles at the far end fleeing my presence by jumping into the water!), where the water did indeed seem quite deep. I'll have to borrow Joe's 10-foot pole on my next trip. It brought me so much joy to be out there paddling about, after two years idly thinking "we should try out that boat!" I didn't even mind the number of neighbors who very clearly slowed down their cars or lingered at the cross street to stare at me, haha.
After that, I spent a bit of time cutting the reeds and hauling as much of them into the boat as I could. Getting splashed in the face by dripping roots, not super awesome, but I achieved my purpose! The reed also proved helpful for maneuvering, since they're pretty strong and well-rooted - I could grab on to them and pull the boat closer until I could cut it near the waterline. I even used some reeds to line the boat up for "landing" - then I tossed Sean the rope, climbed out, and he pulled it ashore. (He had been sitting on a rock pondside playing cards on his phone while I was doing this - beyond taking the photo, his role was merely to watch out in case he heard a shriek and a "plop"!)
It's also beautiful this time down year down the little allée on the far side of the pond. (Pretentious much? Yes, but when you have to haul brush and try not to roll your ankle on the slope while avoiding the poison ivy, it helps to cast things in an elegant light, haha). Sometimes I get discouraged, not just by the amount of work that has to be done just to keep the property in reasonable shape, but by how many of the plants are invasive non-natives that I'll probably never have the money, time, or energy, to fully eradicate and replace with natives. Or I'll get discouraged by how less-than-manicured everything looks, even though the rational part of me is fully on board with the program of no watering, no chemicals, encouraging clover, etc. etc. But then I look at our semi-feral borders and see all the wildflowers blooming (goldenrod, blue aster, and little white daisy fleabane), and I realize that most of the houses I go running by in our neighborhood don't have those, because they keep things neat. By the long side of the pond, even though the milkweed didn't bring many monarchs this year, the wild patch of weeds beside it is humming with bee activity, even in October, because it's fully of the little white daisies. That makes me so happy.
And here, after our single successful "sail" of the season, is the boat after having been washed and being prepared for winter storage. Next year we might have to get Sean a pair of waders if we want to recreate the "Kiss the Girl" scene from Little Mermaid, haha.
