If you have read 14design’s profile, you have a hint of the considerable time I spent growing up on an island. Before my family built a home on the island which my great grandfather started his family after leaving his home in Ireland, we would “summer” on a neighboring island which had nothing but nature.
My mother and I would spend days exploring the island, gathering berries, collecting firewood and making great use of our imaginations. My father lobstered and many of our meals came from the day's catch.
Over the years my two younger sisters were born. Our growing family enjoyed different locations the island offered. There was The Maples, The Birches and The Punch Bowl, to name a few. Each came with their own beauty.
We started at The Punch Bowl, which offered raw beauty. Living on an island facing the open Atlantic could be raw and beauty was everywhere. Thick evergreens pushed their limits to the cliffs edge. The sound of waves tumbling rocks as the tide changed. Endless reefs buffered the waves of the Atlantic and filled the area known as the Punch Bowl with water when the tide was high. A favorite memory was my chore of searching out “plates” for dinner. I would search the Punch Bowl for these large flat oval rocks. The sun soaked plates warmed my legs when sitting down to a meal and were strong enough for the many lobsters we enjoyed. A smooth oval rock, just larger than your grip would help access the tasty treat mom had cooked, smothered in seaweed, over an open fire tucked in the ledges.
The Birches offered a rare social element for a family living on an uninhabited island. Perched on the cliffs, overlooking the protected harbor named “Cocktail Cove”, we had a few neighbors when boaters sought protection or relaxation. My sister was a young toddler. I remember my father constructing a wooden cradle, suspended by rope from the trees, for her to gently rock during her naps.
The Oaks offered protection. We had a view of my grandfather’s homestead on the neighboring island. This gave a great sense of comfort. A simple white t-shirt waved vigorously on the end of a stick would hopefully be noticed on a clear day. I knew Grampa had a good pair of binoculars. Several large oak trees offered shade and shelter under their canopy. A short path through the ferns brought you to the head of Cocktail Cove.
Cocktail Cove was a long protected inlet. Many days were spent playing in the warm shallow water at the head of the cove. Surrounded by the vibrant jewel toned cliffs on three sides, there was much to marvel when combing the beach for shells and beautiful rocks. I would seek out the shells which a moon snail had created a hole so I could adorn myself with these ocean jewels.
These and many more treasures I collected during this special time.
The magic of childhood. The magic of nature.
The desire to create what is imagined is my life long gift from
the island called Jewell.
Posts
