, also have our special places for a "get away." It's any place that takes us out of the daily routine and puts us in a place of relaxation, simplicity. Could be an island, a lake, the beach, the mountains, to the "County" or even a city. The fortunate have somewhere they go. For me, my place of solitude takes me to an island off the coast of Maine. Come. Join me.Silently and swiftly the ferry slips away from its mainland bay. Pilings pass on the right and left. Within minutes we have cleared the dock and passage to "the island" is under way. Ah, my heart sings as I settle in for the hour crossing that transports me to this off- shore haven where I will be the guest of my dear friend, an island summer resident and proprietress of "the" gift store. It is my first visit of the season.
The blue, blue seas, reflecting the cloudless blue sky, are glassy calm. The winds that have been prevailing from the southeast for the past week have finally subsided. The sun is warming. Spring has been good to us this year and we embrace another of its gifted days. We glide through the water, barely creating a wake. Any stress I may have been feeling when I boarded is washed away less then a mile off shore. The ambling pace of island life is already with me.
We make the crossing in less then the allotted hour. Very smooth sailing! Familiar sightings guide us to the island dock where the huge piling fenders have the appearance of a bottle. I recall the year when the words "Absolute Island Time" adorned them. But, Maine DOT made sure that was only for one summer.
Island life is reminiscent of life in the 1950's. Maybe it feels that way to me because that is when I first came to Maine as a "summer kid." Days and evenings are filled with activities but the pace is slower, more civil. No road rage here. And the thought of 24/7..... not on this island time.
My time is divided between helping in the store, reading, and restoring myself in a bedroom that calls to mind Maine summers of my youth. It is in this room that tranquility returns and reigns. Tucked under an easterly facing eave, the room is simple: white chenille dressed twin beds divided by a bedside table, an oak dresser, rocking chair, towel stand and a small shipmates sea trunk. Double windows drench the room with sunlight and, weather permitting, a warm breeze floats on in. Each afternoon around 4:00 the room calls. It may be quiet reading time or a time to snooze. Whichever, I become enveloped in the eave and it's womb like comfort. An hour under the eave freshens me anew.
On this visit I'm reading a mystery set on the island. It's a quick read and the source of good discussion between my hostess and me. "Who is that person? Did that really happen? Can you believe how accurate her descriptions are?"
Late afternoon I watch the activity on the waterway dividing this little island from the bigger one to the south. It's still pretty quite this time of year. Just the local fisherman and lobstermen coming and going. After July 4th, small skiffs and Boston Whalers buzz back and forth as the summer population passes from one island to the other. But for now, I'll watch a gentrified lobster boat cruise on by.Traditional Friday night dinner fare for many a generation has been fish chowder and Nabisco Sea Biscuits. Tonight we'll be supping on a "baked fish chowder" I brought for the host family. Polite comments were spoken at dinner but an equal amount of discussion was spent describing their "authentic" recipe from the neighboring island. We'll taste-test that on another Friday. Once dinner is over, evening plans are discussed.
Since an overcast, rainy day is in the forecast, we decide to drive to the northwest shore of the island with the hopes of catching a fine sunset. For those of you who don't participate in sunset searching, let me share the following: "Red sky at night, sailors delight. Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning."
En route we pass a couple of sheltered harbors that are home to magnificent sailing vessels during the summer. This time of year it's still quiet but we spot two windjammers laying over in the most popular one. For many a sailor, this could be Jimmy Buffet's "One Particular Harbor." Our windows wide open, sweet lilac scent drifting in , we continue our ride to the higher ground. We're just in time!
The sun is setting with clouds overtaking the once blue sky. But the sun will not go easily or unnoticed. Breaking through in patches, golden rays of its radiant light illuminate the distant mainland hills. We watch until the last ray is but a glimmer. Our search is satisfied. We are silent.
Riding home to the village, we pass homes that will be opening soon as the summer residents return to the island for another season. We also pass the homes of the island natives who work the seas or piece together a living caring for the homes of others. One population dependent upon the other, both ways. And why do they stay on the island or return again and again, now extending the once short season into the fall and holidays? The island lives in their soul...pure and simple.
Once home I return to my room and the bed beneath the eave. Slumber comes early and the mystery is placed on the bedside table. Tomorrow is another day....on island time.
Madeline
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