Tuesday, May 28--

      A quartet of geese honked down at us that things were moving north fast, "Be patient."  Upright green hues are emerging out of gray riverbank death.

3:35 p.m.-

      The tipped-over trees blocking our passage into the main office lie nearly prone, with their trunks underwater at shore. The water is too shallow to get around the tip of the tree near the opposite bank. Idling up to the snag I lowered the anchor into seven-foot deep water, then sat back to think out a scheme. The first intent is to open a way through. Secondarily, make it wide enough for only my boat, and keep it tangled in appearance to discourage other boaters who may, gripped with a mindset of exploration, wander here. I have brought along a Swede saw, a large strap hinge, and eight two-inch lag screws. I intend to cut a tree part way through, attach the hinge, finish sawing the tree, and convert a barrier into a gate. Then paint the hinge camouflage and call it good.

      The solution to the obstacle appears almost at once, and will require far less carpentry and sinking of screws than expected. The tree trunks at shore are submerged under four feet of water--adequate for the motor to ease through. And the only surface barrier is a floating dead log, which, if removed, would open the channel to five feet, just as I need. It will pass us right against shore where the six-foot deep current is fastest at the vertically sided walls of the stream bank.

      I pull ahead and drop anchor over the tree trunk and get out the saw. Balance is tippy, but EZ likes having visitors up front. I lean over the bow. She sits close at my side and scrutinizes the work. A gnat lands on my eyebrow. I finger it off and return to sawing. EZ snuggles closer and I sense her staring into my eyes and, whining, licking her lips. She kisses my ear, more actually a lick, since she hasn't yet learned how to pucker and smack. I holler something nasty and flinch at the shock and slip my grip, but recover my temper and hold on to the saw.

      I finish the cutting and float both sections away, realizing later that I should've hauled them into the shallows where I wouldn't later ram one of the halves on my way back downriver. The most elegant and satisfying solutions are always the simplest.

      Everything upstream is pretty much as it was last year, except there are no leaves. The office channel splits into a narrow corridor on the west as it always has, but it's never been negotiable due to criss-crossing dead refuse over and under the water. Wouldn't it be fun to open a new passage by ridding it of deadwood? I cut a chunk off of one log, but the rest is underwater and heartily resists my labor to haul it away. So, I drop the anchor over it and lock the rope in place, then back the motor fast, then forward, then back again, designing to release it from the mud. Not so. It's still there with one cleanly sawn end bleaching in the sun and anchor rope burns brown on its bark.

5:15 p.m.-

      EZ is asleep in a sea of battle debris; dead sticks and small branches litter her deck.

      It's a T-shirt day today, delightful to finally be back in my summer office as though winter's lockup had never happened. It's still early in the season, so the grasses are short, and there's a good view across both marshy meadows east and far west. Two muskrats have been swimming near the bank, upstream, downstream, busy builders.

      This year we have a white six-inch flowerpot with a three-inch high marigold weaving in the breeze. It was started from seed beside the kitchen window a month ago; the official boat posy. It will grow to be sturdy by 60 mph winds whipping it back and forth in the boat on trips back and forth from home, protected on the floor between two seats.

       Weather Channel Experts have concluded that animals (including domestic pets) may actually need sunscreen, though they gave no instructions how or where to apply it.