Island Summer Ends

[Above photo: Do you think our civilization has gotten a little decadent?]

7 September 2022

In three days I’ll close the cabin and leave the island for the year, not returning until late May-early June 2023. Summer has been lovely. I’ve grown much closer to my daughter, as she has to me, apparently. And I’ve gotten to know my niece and sister much better.   I haven’t written The Great American Novel or kayaked to the head of the Bay of Fundy, but I feel pleased with my summer activities.

The mother hummingbird and her babies feed intensely on my sugar-water, allowing us to stand 18 inches away, viewing them through the porch screen. They have to battle small wasps at the feeder; the latter are not happy to share whereas the hummers couldn’t care less. Often I impatiently unlatch the screen, pull it back, and swat the wasps. I don’t have warm sentiment towards them, although I presumably should since they must fill an important niche in our life-chain. (I feel similarly inclined toward mosquitos, even though they don’t bother me much.)

For the next 3 days and nights there will be only me and Michael, the caretaker, on the island. I’ll spend Saturday night at Ari’s, treating myself to a cocktail and supper at the bar at the Brooklin Inn where Ari will be working, while my car charges at her house. Then off to Round Pond on Sunday to lunch with a friend from Berkeley and home to Portland.

My electrician, Ryan, will collect the slate tiles covering my rear patio this Saturday so I can plan and plant a garden. Tiles require no maintenance but are heat sinks and ugly.  Non-productive, as well. I’ll plant flowering native bushes and dwarf trees but shall leave room for some herbs and bee-friendly flowers.  It’ll be a nice spot to sit on a warm summer evening. 

I have especially enjoyed visits this summer from Ari and Jon, her boyfriend. He is serious about his photography and has two published books, with a third issuing next Spring. I greatly enjoy seeing them together, as they share a playful, affectionate relationship. We engage in death-dealing Bananagrams, each with our specialty.  Ari wins more often than not, Jon creates very long words, and I use Latin and middle-English to bemuse them. They both are wonderful cooks and we’ve slipped into a routine where they feed me and I provide the locale and do the dishes.  They foraged and found a bucket of chanterelles which Jon promptly sauteed in butter; I’d circled the island two days before and couldn’t find a single one.

Ari bought me a wonderful kayak-caddy with large wheels for my birthday. I really struggle to get my 16 foot-long 55# boat up the ramp from the beach. Since it is wood, I don’t drag it. I’ve researched other boats and have decided to purchase a smaller but wonderfully-designed sea kayak from a manufacturer in Wales. Jon has two of their boats and Ari has one. This model is beautifully crafted and light enough for me to put on my roof-rack. I’m determined to learn to Eskimo-roll automatically; Jon assures me that I can. Ari now can. It will make my forays that much safer.

I withdrew from my writing class at OLLI since I’ll miss 2 of the 5 monthly sessions and it seemed unfair to occupy one of only 10 spaces. 

My plans for Thailand are gaining definition. My two week therapy workshop will be in January with a practicum for an undefined time thereafter.  I plan to use my Rieger award money to underwrite it, unless I can land a grant. Inflation is staggering in Myanmar and the devaluation of the kyat would prohibit most students from attending. I’ll rent a large house where we can live, learn, and cook together, which will be fun and economical. Depending on covid, I’ll then take a bit of time to explore places in Thailand I haven’t visited. I expect I’ll teach a similar workshop by Zooming into Myanmar for CDM psychiatrists who cannot leave the country.

The Annals of Ageing

I’ll have cataract surgery in October and have an inguinal hernia repaired soon after. It has popped out—probably a knuckle of fat—2-3 times per year since 2016 but several times this summer. I like to lift things—boards, boats, bricks—and dislike the too-common consequence. This time it didn’t reduce easily and I can only imagine being far from medical care and unable to put things in their proper place.

I think Don has done it this time. Nuclear intelligence?!! And how many classified folders with their entire contents missing? I would have been in jail a year ago. He is so special? I hope the armed crazies on his team don’t start shooting. Enough nonsense is enough, Donald!