Back to Nature
Well, COVID-19 is here in Maine. In fact, It’s right down the street from me at Bath Iron Works. Yikes!
My son, Zeke, is pretty darn oblivious to what’s going on, and for that, I am most grateful. I think one of the weirdest parts about this virus is that, in our country, some things are continuing as normal. The grocery store may have an apocalyptic feel, but on the Brunswick Bike Path, children are rollerblading and laughing as usual.
It’s my belief that the universe doesn’t give us things that we cannot handle. When the weight of the world and my house becomes suffocating, I pack what I can into my Element, and head for the woods and waters. It’s the most beautiful gift that, despite the descending virus on our country, we have the ability to be with Mama Earth. And if you live in Maine? Bonus Points.
So this is where my story starts.
It was a beautiful spring day on Saturday in March. Zeke and I needed fresh air and sunshine and I knew the state parks would be packed. The point of the excursion was for us to be alone in nature, so, to my own surprise, I started driving towards one of my favorite secluded places: Westport Island.
I remembered a beautiful preserve I used to go visit when I lived on Fowles Point called the Bunyon Preserve. I couldn’t remember exactly where it was located, but I knew it was pretty far down the island off a road on the right.
Apparently I took the wrong road, but I drove down it anyway (because any road on Westport Island is beautiful!!!) and, lo and behold! I found myself pulling my car into a parking lot for a completely different preserve.
“Hmm, ok,” I thought. “This is where the Universe is taking us today.” Zeke and I packed our picnic in my Kelty toddler carrier, and we walked the trails to wherever they would bring us.
If you know anything about me, you’ll know that I have a passion for beautiful old houses. If I truly think back to why I had chosen to pursue my real estate license, it was because I loved the tin ceilings, the ornate trim, and the feeling of history in the bones and structures of Western Maine. I would often find myself telling buyers, “If you don’t buy and fix up this home, I will!” This is absolutely why I was not successful and ended up giving up my license. But, my passion for old houses didn’t end there.
When I do stumble upon a beauty, I like to sit and stare at them for a while. And most likely, I’ll take pictures. My mother taught me to do that. She’d stop the car, pull out her film camera, and capture the sad, raw beauty of a neglected Victorian. So, imagine my surprise, while we were walking along, we found this.
I think my new hashtag is going to be #zekewitholdhouses
I didn’t know it then, but the land on this preserve is that of the earliest settlers on Westport, or “Jeremisquam” as it was known then. The house was owned by Timothy Dunton and was built around 1750. The Duntons and the Hodgden families occupied this absolutely beautiful land, known as “Squam Creek Farm.” He then passed the property on to his grandson, Andrew Dunton, who was lost at sea.
Zeke in the sweetgrass.
The rest of the history can be found here on the Kennebec Estuary Land Trust website. I find the family history fascinating, and as we “walk walk”-ed (As Zeke likes to say) around the old farm property, the old family history’s energy was strong amongst the reeds and pines. You just get the feeling that so much love, work, and family happened there.
My curiosity about the house and what was happening to it (was it being restored? was it being torn down?) took me to the internet to find John and Jewel who are doing a whole documented Facebook journey of content of their dismantling and restoring of the home. It’s amazing to see what they’re doing and what the old house looked like before. Click here to see their page.
We had a picnic in the family cemetery, walked along the sweetgrass, and moseyed about the Jeremy Ramble Trail. We only saw one other person with her sweet pup. After that, I wrestled Zeke back into his carseat, and drove over the old bridge home.
It felt right to make a briny soup dinner that night with Thai dumplings, Maine wakame seaweed, and local eggs. The ginger and chicken broth was warm and healing my chapped cheeks and lips. Zeke was sleepy and went down for bed without a fight.
That night, as I read the mounting articles about COVID-19, I felt more mentally prepared to tackle them. Armed with the knowledge that Mother Earth is still beautiful, and that there is still peace to be found on an island in Maine, I could read them and still educate myself without going into a complete tailspin of emotions.
Before I turned off my light, I read from Anne Morrow Lindbergh’s Gift From the Sea, one of my favorite books to turn to again and again.
““Actually these are among the most important times in one’s life—when one is alone. Certain springs are tapped only when one is alone. The artist knows he must be alone to create; the writer, to work out his thoughts; the musician, to compose; the saint, to pray...Women need solitude in order to find again the true essence of themselves.” (44). ”
With much love, peace, and wishes for good health, —the rockweed writer.
