Aug. 14th dawn -- Sutton Island, Maine -- 5:34am
I have just returned from a lovely eight days's immersion in island rhythms. There are limitations to life on an island, but they are more than made up for by the sense of natural pace that overcomes you in that setting.
It was especially productive for my writing life. I think if I could leave the rest of the world behind for a couple of months and stay out there, I might be able to crank out the rest of this book in no time. As it was, I made the most significant progress of the last couple of years, sitting at the same table where my biographical subject ate her dinners eighty-some years ago.
There was a strange gathering mist on the horizon that morning that made eerie, twisting cloud-shapes that curled around the sun and neighboring land masses. Quite beautiful.