Mon 30 Jul The Caretaker always cringes when walking into the Ladies' Locker Room. After all... just what are his responsibilities here? Now, the Caretaker occasionally finds panties and other esoterica lying about the premises that is best stashed away out of sight there, but always feels he is violating some inner and forbidden sanctum when entering. Are all those doors open and all that mess strewn about because of some secret female rites... or has some vandal been let loose and not been reported? Should any attempt be made to gather and straighten and shut doors? Not on your life!!! The Caretaker is a married man and knows better than to mess with stuff like that!!! After all... the vandal has gone unreported and unmentioned for years and thus the state of that room must serve some mysterious purpose the Caretaker is gratefully unaware of. So men... if any woman gives you grief concerning the state of the Men's Locker Room... which is, as we all know, in the downstairs "flow through zone" and looks that way because it is obviously visited by high water... do not actually laugh at them, but smile, and offer to accompany them upstairs. If you dare!

Wed 1 Aug The large, similar, strap-like leaves are planted near and lost among the daylilies, hyacinth, and daffodils in the Caretaker's garden between the quarters and the slough. Like the daffodil and hyacinth, the leaves die back and the plant forgotten. Then... one day... one looks around and there are these huge, fragrant, pink blooms shooting on stalks right out of the ground... and one realizes why it is called the resurrection lily (lycoris squamigera). Also know as autumn amaryllis, these were planted originally on the riverside of the Clubhouse where the deck now stands, and were saved by the heroic efforts of Holly Syracuse before construction of the deck. They also serve as a monument to how rapidly the Club is changing, because the deck itself was only constructed about 8 years ago, and yet, as the waiting list now outnumbers the Members, and also because those on the waiting list 8 years ago are now new Members, this means that the majority of the families affiliated with the Club have no memory of this significant change in the physical plant of the Island... or how it has changed the way the Island looks and can be enjoyed. Can you... dear Member-reader... remember the way the autumn amaryllis was glorious and lit up the river side of the Clubhouse only 8 years ago? Who says "future shock" is not alive and well?

Fri 10 Aug Rounding a corner yesterday the Caretaker was surprised to encounter four geese. They seemed pretty bedraggled and looked to be travelers, but still, it is unusual to see them this time of year. And then, going in and opening yesterday's Wall Street Journal, the front page of the Marketplace Section featured a large article entitled: The Bane of the Billionaires: "Their lush lawns befouled by Canada geese, Seattle's moguls fight back - to no avail." The article was an examination of how the geese are spurning traditional migration habits and becoming year round residents... encouraged by large grassy lawns that are ideal goose habitat. It was also a humorous romp that poked fun at the massive resources of money and personnel and gadgetry that Seattle's wealthiest have dedicated to the problem "to no avail," in order to avoid stepping in goose poo. The article will be clipped and kept upstairs for any Member who still harbors a forlorn hope that the meager resources of the Club can affect our own problem.

Wed 15 Aug Again this morning the Caretaker considered... with great trepidation... taking on the utility drawer. You all have a drawer like this... where you have put the flashlight, screwdriver, and tape so that you can easily find it. And it also collects anything else that seems important but for which timing or convenience inhibit proper filing, so much so that after a while it is downright difficult to find the flashlight, screwdriver, or tape without taking most of the contents out while the drawer is rifled through. One day... and in our house this seems to occur about every three months... the utility drawer becomes so full it is difficult to open. Then ensues a month of denial... until it becomes near impossible to open... and finally must be taken out and examined next to the garbage can... where a third is thrown out, a third is stashed somewhere else, and a third is left in... like starter yeast to make it grow again.

Thu 16 Aug The Caretaker has few delights like encountering a chair that has been moved and set out somewhere on the Island by some mysterious person that seems precisely located for some purpose as yet unknown but potentially discoverable. Who can resist sitting in such a chair and trying to intuit the purpose for its precise location? Is there some direction for which the line of sight might reveal some hidden perspective, as in a great Japanese garden? Was there an angle for which some wildlife observation was just right... and hence the purpose ephemeral because connected to some moment in time? Did some personal epiphany occur, which is re-creatable for anyone able to decipher the elements of time and space and location in a certain way? What thought bubbles were loosed upon the wind from this place... timeless in importance when created... but as fragile as soap bubbles and as quickly forgotten?

Hence each chair is a game waiting to be played... and a good example can be had from the chaise longue often set up by Sunday's substitute caretakers near the ferry. Each substitute caretaker has a personal reason for the nuances of location. In some cases the position is aligned to afford a clear line of sight through the trees to the towpath ferry landing. In others the position allows the individual to cleverly see the ferry landing while remaining hidden. But whether moved one foot or many... the location is different for every individual... and thus the Monday Morning Caretaker always makes a pilgrimage to the chaise longue for the treat of discovery.

Mon 20 Aug Courtesy of Swimming Supervisor John Krasny, there are now new life rings on both the swimming dock and the swimming float... and new life rings bedeck the Island ferry. A new life ring had been purchased and placed on the swimming float... but always managed to mysteriously return to the swimming dock and get tied up. Now there are enough to cover all the bases. Years ago there had been life rings on the swimming float... but they were removed because the kids got into the habit of playing and throwing them at each other... so this is also an experiment to investigate improved kid manners. Hanging from the swimming area tree there is also a long boat hook pole to extend to anyone in trouble.

Thu 23 Aug When the large maple tree overhanging the Clubhouse was cut down this spring, the Caretaker had noted with interest when one of the crew had cut a piece of sassafras tree root and chewed on it, claiming it was a natural stimulant. The Caretaker could also remember being told something about this as a Boy Scout back in the mists of time... something to do with Indians chewing the root. So finally... yesterday... in lieu of coffee... the Caretaker cut some root from one of the Island's own sassafras trees and chewed... to see what would happen. The root is very aromatic and it is easy to smell the connection with root beer. When chewing seemed not to make the Caretaker sit any straighter in his chair... the root was boiled for a tea. Sweetened with sugar, the tea was actually tasty. Those of us of the Forrest Gump generation can remember that the cowboy with the white hat always walked into the saloon and ordered "sarsaparilla"... and although Webster no longer defines just what it was... surely it was a precursor to root beer... itself allegedly a stimulant. Funny how these drinks start out... remember, Coca Cola originally had the same ingredient people now take cocaine for. As to the tea... yes... there was a small lift and energy increase... but not so much as to deter the Caretaker from taking "real" drugs... that cup of coffee... an hour later.

Mon 27 Aug It was a bleary morning around here... the Caretaker's Wife had slept on the couch and everyone had been up late after we had been awakened by critter sounds in the bedroom wall. There were scurrying and gnawing sounds and one could only wonder what in the world they could be chewing on in there (hopefully, not wiring insulation)... and why whatever was tasty had to be in a bedroom wall instead of some other. The cats were lectured regarding their responsibility in these matters, and actually feigned interest for a while, but neither of them showed any inclination to go outside or do anything. Mind you... it was not a loud sound... and had it been a noisy fan or partying teens at the rope swing there would have been no problem getting back to sleep. But there is something about such gnawing sounds in the wall that activates primitive emotions... especially when the last time such sounds were heard in the walls it turned out to be rats.

It was two years ago that we had this same problem. It was just after we discovered that the unusually cute squirrel eating fallen birdseed on top of the air conditioner had a most un-squirrel like tail. And instead of clawing up the side of the walls to get close to the bird feeder, these new rodents seemed to trot up vertical walls effortlessly. These were no slant-headed and squinty-eyed rats like some cartoon, but actually handsome critters... we thought cuter than the Island squirrels... and they seemed cheerful and almost tame in disposition... and had they just stayed out of the walls at night we could have all lived in harmony. But a sleepy and cranky Caretaker's Wife is less eager to cross the water and climb the hill early in the morning in order to work and support the Caretaker in the style to which he would like to become accustomed, so drastic measures had to be considered. And here we are again.

Now, if we had farm cats or country cats this would not be a problem... and the Caretaker would not be so annoyed with the cats because they would "do the right thing" so he would not have to blacken his karma by killing. The Caretaker has advanced the argument in the family councils that one difference between city cats and country cats is the amount of dinner served... and that if less cat food were served the rat problem might go away. But the Caretaker's Wife always votes with the cats in such councils, and everyone is then offended and grumpy that such things were even discussed. Drastic measures can be easily considered if the option is living with grumpy cats... et al.

Fri 31 Aug A great thing about the Log is the ability to look back in time when folks wonder aloud about things being "different from last year." Interesting things that were different last August include: Deformed frogs were seen on the Island ... The sweet autumn clematis flowered three weeks earlier ... Last year by 21 Aug unseasonably cool nights had diminished the spider webs, this year they are barely getting started ... Also by this date the river water had cleared so much that visiting the Captain's float was like going to an aquarium ... By 23 Aug we had seen the first falling leaves.

Excerpted from the Caretaker's Log at sycamoreisland.org

-- Doc Taliaferro, Sycamore Island Caretaker