We are closing in on an hour of gained daylight — almost to 10 hours of light per day!
We are finally into February, with no snow on the ground, and, in fact, when I look out on the lawn, there is even a green tinge to the grass. Now I know that I will not be mowing any time soon, but we have to take the positives where we can in the wintertime.
The Don Meserve and Juanita Dugdale house sold on Back Shore Road in January and a very warm welcome to the new owners, Jessica, Joshua, and Vela Reilly-Moman. The studio buildings suit them perfectly as a writer and boat builder. Don was a sculptor and good friend to many in the area. The sculpture that was at the end of their driveway “Peary Henson,” which I always enjoyed when walking by, is now at Studio 53 Gallery in Boothbay Harbor, where they will hold a one-person show of Don’s work in the spring.
I am still having lots of positive response to the Adelaide Butman letters that I have been quoting in my column. I do want to stress that I am quoting her letters word for word, which seems like the right thing to do. This woman was born in 1886 and wrote these letters to Lettie Prior when she was in her 90s, recounting her memories of Round Pond. Back in her day, there was no such thing as “politically correct or incorrect,” so please bear with any words or phrasing that Adelaide used.
More from Adelaide:
“I wonder if sailors roll now the way they used to do? Capt. Albert Leeman would walk on the wooden sidewalk, lifting each leg alternately as though he expected the boards to come up to meet him. The island folk always walked single file.
“There were no real roads or sidewalks on the Island (Louds). There was one beast of burden — Percy the ox — who drew a blue ox cart when there was the emergency of death or the arrival of the packet. The store was run by Nate and Sadie Carter; must have been cousins of my father. People on the island raised sheep. Mother used to buy Saxony yarn to knit my woolen stockings because the Louds Island wool was so scratchy.
“The beach opposite Round Pond was sandy, beautiful, white sand. The trees were cat spruce, which seemed to be native there. There was a carpenter on the island by the name of Orem — a house built by him was perfection.
“Mrs. Alma Stinson sent me this poem written by Rachel Field, which always reminded me of my times on Loud’s Island.
If once you have slept on an island
you’ll never be quite the same;
you may look as you looked the day before
and go by the same old name.
You may bustle about in street or shop;
you may sit at home and sew,
but you’ll see blue water and wheeling gulls
wherever your feet may go.
You may chat with the neighbors of this and that
and close to your fire keep, but you’ll hear ship whistle and lighthouse bell
and tides beat through your sleep.
Oh, you won’t know why and you can’t say how
such changes upon you came,
But once you have slept on an island
you’ll never be quite the same.”
Chicken parmesan and haddock chowder will be on the menu this week at King Ro’s Friday-night dinner. There will be homemade yeast rolls and Steph’s blueberry pie. Dinner is served from 5:30-8 p.m.
Quote of the week: “If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.”
