Finally, it rained. During the night I heard thunder rolling through the air. Then a patter of raindrops outside my window. Eventually a steady cascade upon the roof. If it was a deluge I didn't know. I fell back asleep. But this morning there were large puddles in the lane. Outside in my shower, every tree above me was glistening with pearly drops suspended from the tips of branches and twigs. The land will be rejoicing.
Speaking of weather, a reader asked recently if Ocracoke's unique geographical configuration might militate against devastating effects from storms and hurricanes. Frankly, I don't know, although some older residents are adamant that the dredging of Cockle Creek (Silver Lake) and the filling in of the guts (two tidal streams that extended from Cockle Creek towards the beach) have left the village more vulnerable to storm tides, According to these old timers, the tide waters are no longer channeled to once barren tidal flats, but now inundate the village.
I am not knowledgeable enough to know if this is true, but it certainly seems that the more we interfere with nature the more she lets us know that she had it right all along.
This month's newsletter is a story of Captain Joe Burrus, last Ocracoke lighthouse keeper before the beacon was electrified and automated. You can read it here.