The Skeeter Daddle Diaries

How long, Lord, how long? We’ve been quarantined in this hellhole of the South End now for, who knows anymore, how many weeks, months, possibly years. Same old same old, rinse and repeat. The world has shrunk to an area about the size of a dog’s fire hydrant loop. Trail to the beach, walks back in the woods, the weekly drive to the grocery store with masks on and empty aisles, my path to Tyee Store that’s now closed. Last week I whacked the blackberries back and mowed down a barricade of snowberry bushes, sickled the nettles and salmonberries, all to keep that trail open, you know, just in case the Tyee Megastore ever opens its shuttered doors again. It’s a Sisyphean joke on myself is what I think, but … it adds another mile to the perimeter of my confinement.

Today in a burst of energy, spurred on by a need to Escape, I hacked my way into the back of our property. We only have 7 acres of prime nettle territory, not what you might call an estate, certainly not a vast area of unexplored terrain. And yet … there are places that we rarely traverse, fern shrouded, blackberry brambled wildernesses we just leave for some future shopping mall or an array of condominiums when we depart these mortal coils. Don’t ask me why I decided today was the day to open a path into that heart of darkness. Blame it, I guess, on the Covid. If I can’t go anywhere but here, then by god, what we need is more here.

I started with a sickle, whacking and slashing fern fronds nearly head high, mowing down elderberry and salmonberry and nettles, bucking up old deadfall with a chainsaw, moving logs with a peavey. Inch by inch, foot by foot, yard by yard, my freedom expanded into the jungle. I felt released from my Covid chains, if only by a short trail. I was in unexplored habitat where not even the deer ventured. Lewis and Clark hadn’t passed this way and who knows, maybe not even the natives.

I’m still cutting trails, a couple more already. Eldorado awaits possibly. Or the remains of a deceased civilization. Possibly a blackberry shrouded temple. So far, though, I’ve only stumbled across an old bottle dump, the Barefoot Bandit’s lair and a family of illegal immigrants. I suspect I’ll make important archeological discoveries when I start tunneling. Probably next week. Hopefully I can use the illegals for most of the gruntwork.

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