The day is rapidly approaching and preparation is in high gear. And yes, my lurkers, the rumors are true. We’re heading up to a boatyard with indoor storage so we can get down to the serious work, unbothered, unrushed, and without having to be dinner theatre. So Sunday was a day for oil changes and the like. And while the engine ran, getting the oil nice and hot, we cleaned things down. Even if we were only putting the boat away for the coming winter we like to have her spotless, but being she’s going indoors, once she’s blocked we won’t be able to properly wash her, so now was the time.
Aboard Annabel Lee I hold a strict live-and-let-live policy, and through the summer I’ve come to expect a few spiders will take up residence on the rails and ladder. With a mercury vapor light on the sea-wall behind us, flying insects gather and our arachnid clan eat well, some growing to rather impressive size. Every boat around us has them. They seem to spend the days unseen, then emerge at night, doing their part to keep the biting insect population down. The way I see it, bugs bite and sting, fly around, get into food and generally make themselves known in rude ways, behavior never exhibited by any of our self-respecting spiders. True, I’m constantly clearing off webs the next morning, but aside from that I don’t see them as much of a nuisance. But every time we started to scrub another area spiders appeared, running for safety. I’m amazed how well they’d all hidden, wedging themselves into tiny nooks behind the bridge ladder or beneath the boathook bracket. I figured we had a few, maybe a dozen or so. Growing up around the docks left me with zero fear of spiders, so I’d gather them up and gently relocate them to the sea-wall. And a few more. And some more. And yet more. By day’s end, the count (Felicia asked me why I was counting in the first place – I don’t know) hit 47.
I’d like to think that counts for some good Karma.