maine island days

July 7th sunrise, Sutton Island, Maine.

4:55am, or so

[I wrote this post yesterday morning, after a week on our favorite island with all the kids plus S.O.'s - the first ever gathering of all 9 of us]

Back on Sutton Island in Maine, where time hovers in suspension.  We leave today.  I say goodbye to a large number of those whom I hold most dear, so I am restless.  I always get unsettled when they leave me, when they go off into their cars and planes and lives – all those things fraught with unknown perils.  At least, that’s what it sometimes feels like when they are out of my hands, out of my sight.

The sunrise is always there, more often ignored than not these days.  The month of June slipped away without a sunrise excursion.  But today I allowed it to call me out.

I’ve been in a kind of holding pattern, waiting not for a landing but a launching.   I suppose I’m waiting to be called out in a bigger way.  Less than a week remains before I start my first residency for an MFA program in writing, and I’ve been writing virtually not at all.  I wish I didn’t feel the need to be shoved forward by some external force, but that seems to be my lot.  

Maybe with that impetus I can write about this island, the thoughts that flit by, the personalities inhabiting my life’s space, cookouts on the rocks interrupted by a drenching rain, hummingbirds at the feeder, barnacle scrapes, wading to a tidal island, catching up with a slew of 20-somethings over breakfast on a hot summer morning, many dogs draped over stones and decks in a state of island bliss, lots of coffee from a French press, margaritas shaken up in a washed out spaghetti sauce jar…stuff like that.

 dawn glow through a screen door...

May meander, 4:45am

sunrise - 4:55am

Since my bedroom window faces north, the sun's morning light becomes more and more prominent on my pillow as it moves into its summertime position.  I've been too comfortable to venture out into the early dawn risings of May, but most mornings I vicariously experience that wonderful time of early light and first bird song through glass.  I take in the sensory experience of the world waking up, then I happily close my eyes again.

It should have been no surprise, that rush of witnessed grandeur that filled me out there at 4:45 this morning, but there it was, like nothing else.  Seeing it out the window and standing in the outdoor air are nothing like each other.  Perhaps I'll start getting out there more often...but it's hard to say.  The sun won't be up later than 5am until after July 10th.

Our Pakistani daughter leaves for home three weeks from today, after her year in Maine with us.  She is off on an all day whitewater rafting trip today with the high school seniors, which was what got me up so early.  A couple of days ago, almost 21-year-old T and I went with her to Canobie Lake Park in New Hampshire. Q had never been on a roller coaster - now she has been on several, plus a couple of water rides with big splashes.  Q loved the water rides.  We'll see how she feels about the real thing after today's adventure.

I attended the funeral of a friend of mine yesterday.  Cancer.  That stupid disease pops up everywhere, and I've had way too much of it too close to home lately.  That may be another reason why I've been disinclined to write.  Still, the family of my deceased friend articulated their feelings for their father with such sweet sorrow and inspired remembrance that I was left feeling uplifted and hopeful.  I suppose that's what a good funeral ought to do.

Here is a photo meander through today's sunrise, including some avian friends.  I startled a pair of ducks and caught them taking off, and was serenaded by the ubiquitous blackbirds.

There are also some backyard shots from about a week ago when the trees were still in high bloom.  My back field is an exquisite refuge and delight.  Its flower display this spring has been especially exuberant, and I couldn't resist including some shots of my very favorite bluets.

 blackbird, moon

winter slump, spring awakening

sunrise:  6:36

This is what our Maine world looks like at the advent of spring.

It's funny though...the snow can't hide the fact that spring is in the air.  The light is broader, brighter.  Birdsong is growing in strength and enthusiasm.  I watched a pair of downy woodpeckers locked in a twirling coupling yesterday (talk about a quickie!).  There is a general softening of the atmosphere, snow notwithstanding.

It's a good thing too.  I have slogged through a month in a serious slump (sounds a bit like a Dr. Seuss predicament).  Why is it that I sometimes lose all inspiration to do anything - cook, create, write, innovate, initiate, move, exercise, accomplish, get out of bed...?  And then that judging voice kicks in with disdain, reminding me that I have no excuse to be melancholy or idle.

Maybe what's missing is that thing people call a muse, but it's really something everyone has, not just artists.  It's that spark that ignites our enthusiasm, the twinkle in our eye, the angel on our shoulder, the glowing ember in our soul, pixie dust.  But sometimes it is muffled, snuffed out, or just gone on vacation.

As usual, my canine companions are always helpful in pulling me out of the mire, given the opportunity.  They are heavily featured in today's post, enjoying the snow with their usual abandon.

There is NEWS!  First, I thought I'd link my little pool of readers to some of what I've been up to in print.  I am well over 100 columns for the Bangor Daily News now, and it has been very gratifying work, even though it's occasionally a chore to get the job done.  Here is my web page for the (paper:  http://bangordailynews.com/author/robin-clifford-wood/)

Second - Our year with Aqsa, our teenaged "daughter" from Pakistan, has gone through multiple evolutions.  Like everything truly worthwhile, it's not always easy, but the vastly predominant overall picture is pretty great.  It will be an unforgettable year.  Here's a column update about that: http://bangordailynews.com/2013/03/05/living/more-tales-of-a-pakistani-teenager-in-maine/

Third - part of the improving picture at home is the growing friendship between Aqsa and our youngest daughter, who rejoined the household in November for a rather undefined period of transition.  T's future is now appearing with greater clarity, since she has decided to accept the offer of admission from Tulane.  It's strange to ponder next fall now, when we will be readjusting back to the empty nest again!

Fourth - I'm going back to school too!  I have been accepted into Stonecoast's low-residency MFA program in creative writing in southern Maine.  My attachment to Maine and Maine's creative people has expanded enormously over the last few years, and I am so excited to be continuing my explorations into the literary world right here in my home state.  One of my great hopes is that the discipline, instruction, networking, and support of the program will give me the nudge I need to finish Rachel Field's story and start in on a few other book projects that have been circling langorously in my brain for years, searching for a place to land.

My first 10 day residency starts in July, but I'll have work to do between now and then, and I plan to keep up the column, at least every other week.

So - time to spring forward!  Crack open the dull shell of hibernation and embrace the muse!  Snow or no snow, it's time for a little rebirth.

St. John's, Newfoundland

 

Very belated posting of a sunrise photo from last August.  20-year-old T was a deck hand on The Wanderbird for the last six months, an 90 foot Dutch fishing trawler re-fitted to become a unique ecotourism ship for one to three week excursions.  She travelled north all summer, above the arctic circle, and finally returned to local waters last week.  Three crew, two captains, and 8 to 12 passengers at any given time.

It was about as far off the grid as one can get in this high tech age - no phone or internet was available 95 percent of the trip.

Soon, our dear youngest daughter will be returning home to figure out what comes next.  Hard to know what the transition will be like after such an experience, but I do know that she will never regret this half a year.