Light on Ocracoke seems to change every minute. I awoke to bright sunlight, the Sound glowing rose beneath gentle clouds. By the time I was drinking coffee on the deck, the clouds had lowered and the horizon was shrouded in mist. The wind died, so that the oars of two kayakers dipped rhythmically into quicksilver as they drifted by, their voices carrying loudly across the slick cam water.
My trip into the village was mommucked by dingbatters - they've arrived for the holiday - more people in the grocery store than I've seen all other days combined. My visit to the Museum, however, was wonderful. I sat through the entire video about the Ocracoke brogue, so I'm trying out a few of the words in this blog. Not hard to understand the words for an old beach girl, whose "slick cam" waters were often "mommucked by dingbatters" in the summer!
Now, in late afternoon solitude, the rain that came while I was in the village has stopped, the wind is rippling the sound again beneath heavy clouds. My only companions are the mallards whose flotilla seems to carry them back and forth in front of my house, the drakes rising and flapping wings, then settling back down to drift the incoming tide.