Across The Water

I was slowly walking back and forth atop a lovely little mountain in Cape Rosier Easter morning, when I heard a sound that stopped me dead in my tracks. As clear as day, across the water, no more than a mile away, the Sunday morning church bells of Castine began to ring. Piercing the silence all around me, the bells were a glorious sound to my ears! Faint, but true, they echoed across Smith Cove, across the Bagaduce river, and up to me on my little mountain perch. Surrounded by magnificent Balsam fir pines, multi colored moss and lichen, and swaying Spanish moss, I was transfixed by the sweet sound of church bells. It was the perfect way to spend Easter morning, and it was the only man made sound I would hear for the next four hours. Alone, but surrounded by the many faces of nature, I hiked all around the various trails that wind and twist their way through the Holbrook Island Sanctuary. Windswept and alive with the sounds of birds and peepers, the Sanctuary was truly an escape from the ordinary on this beautiful late April morning. Rays of sun shimmered through the pines and birches that guard these trails like giant walls of spruce and bark. Mud covered my boots as I stepped from log to log and carefully made my way through the woods, inhaling every sumptuous scent my senses could stand. On one particular trail, a mile walk leads to a small but spectacular body of water called Fresh Pond. Surrounded by spruce trees and a confluence of small bogs, the pond was still as glass on this Easter morning. I leaned against a tree, and closed my eyes. All I could hear were the chirping sounds of peepers, the occasional bumble bee flying by, and the cool wind that moved through the trees with a softness that lingered well into the afternoon. Many people are not afforded the precious opportunity to witness nature in it's truest form, with no distractions or interruptions. I pity these people, for there is no greater sound than the sound of the natural world, and to miss out on these moments is to miss out on a lot. All around our country, nature is being attacked by the immense forces of the mechanical world. Places that offer the rare uninterupted audience with nature are dwindling at an alarming rate. I choose to live in coastal Maine, not just because of the it's abundance of these rare places, but because these places are protected and looked after with a deep passion and commitment. A commitment that is strictly centered on conservation and preservation. On the eastern side of the sanctuary, up by the entrance to east Penobscot Bay, there is a small cove that affords a great view across the Bagaduce river. Nautilus Island sits in the distance to the left of Castine. The gracious white colonials of the town and the Maine Maritime Academy's imposing training vessel, "The State of Maine," are there in plain view. To the left of the cove, tall balsam firs line the shore, while the right of the cove is holds hundreds of jagged and weathered rocks, each with thier own color and geological pattern. Spanish moss seems to cover everything in sight, swaying back and forth with the river's breeze. A few feet from the shore, a small granite bench sits underneath the cover of two tall spruce trees, positioned perfectly to look out to the river and the view beyond. On the top of the bench, there is a small engraving in honor of a local resident who had recently passed way. Underneath the resident's name and her date of departure, it reads, "enjoy the sunset."