For two and a half years the back part of my property was flooded. One seriously freakish rain event came in on the 12th of April, 2023, and over the next two years, three hurricanes would pass through, giving me a cat, but not giving me my land back.
It is fortunate I didn’t lose a dog, or a cat, during this time because there wasn’t enough dry land out here to dig a grave.
Some things I learned about having flooded property:
It’s cool as hell to kayak around a place you’ve only walked. That gets old pretty quick because having a flooded property means there so much more you cannot do.
Trees die when they’re submerged in water for too long. I lost a pine that was close to one hundred feet high, a Live Oak that had a serious lean to it fell over the first hours of the Flood, and it was nearly two hundred years old, and a good dozen or so trees close to the edge died, too.
The water finally dried up in July of 2025, and I had to scramble to get the fence back up before the dogs realized it was down. The Big Pine, well tall enough to tag the house, got the fence instead, and in that I was content.
Someone asked me if my compost pile was dead, and I hesitated. Dead? Yeah, as it turns out compost piles can drown. Mine did. Also, it takes a while for the engine to start turning again, and it’s finally cranked back up, almost a year after the water left.
But the environment of the back of my property has gone through a change. Many trees died, so there’s a lot more open sky between the branches. That brings in sunlight, and one thing I never truly grasped was this: floodwater, especially if it’s grown pond scum on top of it, is incredibly fertile.
A patch of land in the backyard had never seen floodwaters but it stayed wet for nearly two years. Soft rushes grew there, and a willow tree. I have never had either on my property. Pond birds, wood storks, herons, egrets, and ducks were spotted swimming or wading over the compost pile. The area was far too wet to mow, so now about a quarter of my backyard is still covered in weeds.
Worse, infinitely worse, the dead trees are all falling down now. My compost pile has been a favorite target of Water Oaks breaking apart and falling, but I have plans for these dead logs. They will be cut to serve as a perimeter of the compost pile.
The irony that I will now use more water keeping the compost pile wet, because of the overabundance of sunlight, is not lost on me.
When I first moved out here, twenty-five years ago or so, the back of the property was overgrown with weeds and vines. I hacked away at them, and saplings appeared once I fenced the area in, and released the dogs back there. The dogs scared the deer away, and the saplings grew. The first tree that grew tall enough to house a Cardinal nest died in the flood.
Nature carries on. My brief time here will be erased sooner or later, and all traces of my existence will disappear. Unless one of the trees I saved from vines and deer continues on and spreads its seeds throughout the property.
Oddly, I can accept that, if it is the only thing left of me on this earth.
Take Care,
Mike
