To the Sea: Je Revien

"Christina's World," by Andrew Wyeth*, who spent a lot of time on Monhegan Island.

I will return. Yes I will. And I hope it will be for a whole summer, or a series of summers.

Or forever.

I have never been to such a beautiful place in my life as the Monhegan I saw yesterday and today, July 2 and 3, 2012. I felt like a different person on the island.

H. and I were there with young Fig for a couple of nights maybe 10 or more years ago, and I loved it then, too. But now: unforgettable. I feel changed.

Treasures Untold

From every part of Monhegan, a different water view. Clear air with a breeze to lull you to sleep. Gently lapping waves. Lobster rolls served on grilled buns at the Fish House. [Pricey--about $17 for one with a bottled water.] A long, freshly made rosemary baguette from a little shop called Carina--when you tore into the outer crust, tender dough scattered with gorgeous garden rosemary. My brother-in-law Mike got the loaf, some Cheddar and sliced chorizo to bring on our hike. That simple lunch was enough for six adults and two kids. Simple living. See?

We hiked over to the shipwreck on the island, a tugboat [rusted now] that fell to rough waters in 1943. The young boys in our party climbed in and over it. It was a mighty-looking tug, so you can only imagine how fierce the storm was. Then we hiked a narrow trail, the air scented with wild beach roses colored hot pink and white. We saw wild irises. Trailing yew all over the mountain [our hotel was named after that] and soaring gulls over the sea. Near fashion-accessory crisis: I was wearing my gold charm bracelet, which I treasure here because it has oceany charms like a lighthouse, sand dollar and little Nantucket basket, and because charm bracelets are so pretty and feminine and jingly, anyway. But suddenly I looked and it was gone. My heart sank. I could never replace my collection of tiny treasures, two from Sis, and I even had the safety catch on. So I started to backtrack in a panic and then H. followed, and found it immediately. He said he saw it glinting in the sun. I'm so glad I realized it came off. Two links just broke--must have gotten caught on a rock or branch. I would have been SO SO SO upset if I'd lost it.

Hidden Dreams

Our hotel, The Trailing Yew, was humble, but nice, with only kerosene lamps to light our bedrooms [electric light in the shared bathrooms] and family-style breakfast and dinner included in the $115 per person/per night rate. I won't lie. The food was not all it could be, but some of it was really good, like the tiny fresh peas at dinner and the warm, plain homemade donuts and strawberry-cream cheese muffins @ breakfast. [Want to try those muffs @ home--melty chunks of cream cheese and flecks of sweet berries.]

I dreamt about my grandmother Alice there and her apartment in Dumont. Was I communicating with my subconscious, with what my grandmother would want for me, with what she did or did not have? With her love of the ocean, also?

After two days and one night, onto the Elizabeth Ann for the 4:30 ferry ride back to Port Clyde. Had to stay on the upper deck, outside, because churning waves make me feel sick down below.

Now I must sleep, with full lungs and a sunburned back. Back in Belfast, and we're all heading to H.'s sister's lake house tomorrow. I do feel very lucky. But I also feel a sea change coming on, somehow, something stirring in my soul, the power to improve and believe in myself....to be all that I can be.

Good night.

*On the ferry ride from Port Clyde to Monhegan--a famous artists' colony--the captain took a detour past the Wyeths' home and the painter's wife, Betsy, waved and smiled at us from the door, in what looked to be her bathrobe. [It was still morning.]

TCOY

1. Lots of laughter last night, playing card games with the kids in a living room lit by kerosene.
2. Long hike on rugged trail.
3. Read and closed my eyes in the afternoon on the porch of The Trailing Yew, looking down at the water.
4. Stared at sea, at waves, felt feelings, on ferry ride back.