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Evans’ Rag

Vol 6 Issue 10

The iPhone photo is of D’s blooming schefflera. She likes to drape Christmas lights on it. In all the years—since I lived in Miami back then—I’d never seen one of these in bloom. Didn’t even know they did bloom. This one must be happy as a clam in the corner of our living room. Are clams happy? Dunno.

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This morning there’s a nice view looking out over the ocean, even if the weather is mostly hues of gray. It only took years off our life to make it down. I-95 is not for the faint of heart. Nearly two hours to get past Fredericksburg. Gad.

The beach is empty. Not even seagulls. It was only in the high 30s yesterday—colder than usual for the Outer Banks in December. In years past I’ve sat out on the deck with a book and a husky or two. There’s a ritual about these December trips. It’s time off for the week. Books and reading are the primary agenda. Even though all the beach houses are shut up, they are still reminders this is a tourist town.

The bartender at Aqua said there are coyotes on the islands now. Certainly enough rabbits to dine on, and the deer are plentiful, but coyotes are loners. They don’t usually hunt in packs like wolves, so bringing down a deer doesn’t seem too likely. Last year Layla and I came on a coyote around midnight—he was bold as you please, just the other side of an evergreen in the neighbor’s yard. Layla granted him professional courtesy. She didn’t bark, just stared, and he did the same. Kinda spooky—no exclamations were exchanged.

Roast lamb and potatoes are on the Christmas Eve menu tonight—the lamb laced with garlic to be sure. Greens of one sort or another, and possibly oysters on the half shell if the local seafood place has any left. Shucking oysters is a lot like picking crabs—more work than protein. But you can only get fresh oysters for a buck a piece a few months of the year.

So oysters are the other primary part of the agenda.