THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, March 5, 1995 TAG: 9503020232
SECTION: CAROLINA COAST PAGE: 06 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Editorial
SOURCE: Ron Speer
LENGTH: Medium: 70 lines
I can check what's happening in the changing lifestyle of the Outer Banks by looking out the kitchen window at what's blooming in my yard.
For months now, my yard has been brown and virtually lifeless - just as most of the lights have been dimmed in Dare and Currituck counties' oceanfront developments.
As the seasons change, the people crop up and drop out just as do the flowers around my home.
Only the hardiest - and least exotic - businesses have stayed open all winter: The banks, well-nurtured restaurants, big hardware stores, the major grocery markets, the busiest service stations, a handful of hotels, a few art galleries, a book store or two, the malls, the department stores. They keep the Outer Banks alive even when nobody much comes around to say howdy.
In my yard, about the only color has come from the yellow and blue pansies that brighten the dreariest days of winter, blooming amid snow and rain and frost, and the red and orange berries from pyracantha bushes. The sturdy, dependable fighters overcome the elements even though nobody pays much attention to them.
But now my yard is starting to show signs of excitment, with iris and jonquil and daffodil plants climbing overnight out of the ground and unveiling their colorful costumes. Tulips more regally shoot up to display their crowns in beds where they have reigned - and been treasured - for years. Strollers stop and admire neighbors' flowers. And for the first time in months, there's steady traffic on the nearby bikepath.
On the Outer Banks, restaurants shuttered since Christmas are throwing open their doors, greeting old friends and welcoming newcomers with tempting menus blending past favorites with exciting new offerings. Galleries and jewelry stores and other shops that attract tourists are taking down their ``Closed till March'' signs and flying flags and kites to show that the long sleep is almost over. On the beaches, where Robinson Crusoe would have felt comfortably alone for the past several weeks, footprints now are common. Soon, walkers will be weaving multiple paths through the sand.
Later this month and early next month, I expect my yard to become a garden spot, with azaleas and dogwoods exploding in big blotches of reds and whites that will draw close attention from passers-by.
At the same time, the stores and shops that are the mainstays of tourism will be dressing up in new colors and fresh paint and blazing billboards designed to attract visitors from around the nation.
Come summer, my yard should be a quiltwork of colors, with mandevilla's beautiful pink petals dripping down the climbing vines, hydrangea bushes bursting with purple blossoms, ginger flowers drawing hummingbirds, red, white and blue morning glories worshipping the daily dawn, geraniums and a multitude of other hot-weather thrivers replacing the pansies, old folks cavorting like kids in the pool.
On the beaches, colorful umbrellas will dot the sand for miles and miles; every building standing will be packed with people; and the idle businesses of winter will become the hotspots of summer, open from dawn to far after dark, with the beaches abloom with gaudy bikinis on tanned bodies.
There's something special about every season at my house, just as there is something special during all the seasons at the beach.
But this spring is particularly exciting for me, because I've never before seen my yard in full bloom. We just moved into our Manteo home last September, and each day I discover something new.
And I've never seen the Outer Banks come alive, either, since I moved here just last May, and each day adds another view.
Ain't life special! by CNB