Honey's history was the topic of ongoing speculation, but islanders agreed on certain points. Honey had first visited Dewees as a guest of the Coulter Huyler family prior to World War II. The Huylers had been roughing it on Dewees since purchasing the island in '25. No electricity. No phone. Windmill-powered well. Not my idea of beach ease.

Honey had arrived with a husband, though opinions vary as to the gentleman's rank in the roll of spouses. When this hubby died Honey kept coming back, eventually marrying into the R. S. Reynolds family, to whom the Huylers sold their holdings in '56. Yep. The aluminum folks. After that, Honey could do as she chose. She chose to remain on Dewees.

The Reynolds family sold their acreage to an investment partnership in '72, and, within a decade, the first private homes went up. Honey's was number one, a compact little bungalow overlooking Dewees Inlet. With the formation of the Island Preservation Partnership, or IPP, in '91, Honey hired on as the island naturalist.

No one knew her age. Honey wasn't sharing.

"Gonna be a hot one." Honey's conversations invariably opened with references to the weather.

"Yes, Miss Honey. It surely will."

"I expect we'll hit ninety today." Honey's "I"s came out "Ah"s, and many of her syllables took on lives of their own. Via our many conversations, I'd learned that the old gal could work vowels like no one I knew.

"I expect we will." Smiling, I tried hurrying past.

"Thank God and all his angels and saints for air-conditioning."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Y'all are digging by the old tower?"

"Not far from there." The tower had been built to spot submarines during World War II.

"Finding anything?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"That's grand. We could use some new specimens in our nature center."