What to Treasure

I've missed blogging this past week!  I can't wait to read everyone's posts and catch up on what you've been reading, thinking, watching, imagining, creating, and celebrating over the pasts several days.  Early last week we packed all of the belongings that we'd brought to the island plus those trinkets and baubles we've accumulated over the past four months, and we left the island.  It was the saddest I've ever felt leaving a place, and I have left many, many places in my life.  At the same time, we were lucky to have the distraction of the holidays and family and work to push us forward through our days.  Christmas was lovely (hectic, too), and now we're off tomorrow to a conference in Philly for a bit.  We haven't even finished unpacking, but that can wait.

I hope you'll bear with me as I type this one last island post tonight.  I mentioned a couple of posts back that I was a writing a list of what I'll treasure most about my island memories.  Todd has chimed in, too, so here goes:

~Sunrise.

~The scent of wild roses in the air.

~Watching lobstermen hauling traps outside our front window.

~Riding bikes along the back shore on our road with its well-loved cottages, tenacious wildflowers, brambly roses, sea-weathered rocks, salt marshes, and views of the ocean that stretch for miles.

~Sea smoke like you see in these two photos above.  It only appears when very cold air is moving over warmer water, but when it does, wow.
~Neighbors who wave.  Always.  Whether walking, biking, driving, or riding a big wheel, nearly everyone here waves as you pass by.  If you're walking and they are, too, it is likely that they will stop and chat for a bit, no matter who you are.  It's not a fake, touchy-feely gesture.  It's as necessary to island life as having good storm windows.    
~Kids riding their bikes everywhere on their own.  

~No Starbucks, no McDonalds's, no Wal-Mart--no chains of any kind.

~Leaving the door unlocked.

~Talking with people whose families have lived on the island in the same house for generations.  (Sadly, with the poor economy and the rising property taxes, fewer and fewer of these families can afford to stay here.)
~Eating at home nearly every night.  There are two year-round restaurants on the island, and they are great, but most nights we've eaten at home, and it's been magical to cook with the sun setting and the waves crashing just outside our window. 

~Having Portland restaurants just a ferry ride away for those nights when we do eat off the island.  Portland is foodie heaven.  This is the best food town in the northeast for half the price of Boston and none of the pretense.  Local, organic, original, and beautiful food--that's what you'll find on your plate here.  
~Hannigan's Supermarket.  "If we don't have it, you don't need it."
~Beachcombing.  My mason jars are filled to brimming with sea glass!
~The simple, profound physical certainty of high and low tides.
~The waves.  Their sound, their smell, the constancy of their presence.  
~Riding the ferry--everyone rides it, so it's one of the centers of social life and news on the island.  I never grow tired of this bay and the view of the islands here.  Plus, a girl can get get some good crocheting done on those 15-minute rides.
~Island dogs and cats.
~Island cars--seriously, we saw one that had a piece of driftwood for a rear bumper.
~The blast of the ferry horn carrying over the island--always on time.

~The people we met.  Hands down, this is the friendliest place I've lived.

~Being back in the state where I'm from and in the city where I met my husband.  Nineteen years and several cities and states later, we've come full circle.    

~Sunset.