The ice is very unstable this year (so far), so sneaking out to the enchanted island has not been possible. It still holds just as much magic, however. Perhaps even more so. I’m not sure why I’m so preoccupied with this little island, but I always have been. It’s almost like another planet to me--exotic, far away, forbidden. I want to claim it for my own, and yet I want it to stay untouched by man.
|My tiny island.|
There are at least 3,000 islands off the coast of Maine, some say 5,000. It’s hard to know exactly how many there are. Some are several acres in size or considerably larger. Some are tiny like this one. Most of the small to medium-sized islands are covered with untouched pine forests. These places are as primitive today as they were when the first pilgrims came to America. Some have rocky shores, and some have small sandy beaches. Many have small log cabins on them. Some are for sale.
This one isn’t and I’m glad it isn’t. I want the magic to stay. At the first hint of a “lawn,” the mystical parts of an island shut themselves out to further offense. Once someone buys an island and inhabits it, the magic usually leaves. Unless you make a bargain with the land, but we’ll say no more about that for now.