Thursday, August 27, 2009

Maternal Inspiration...

Last week the West "kids" got together at the familial summer home, Spruce Island (traditional name), aka Spruland (revisionist name). The island sits out in the Penobscot Bay, off the Coast of Maine. The purpose of our gathering was to scatter the ashes of our mother, who had died a few years ago, around the island. It was an emotional, yet very gratifying experience...

I will spare you the details, but I will say it was a time for sharing lots of memories, many of which - for me - were of mom's love of the intertidal zone and the region just beyond the reach of a low tide. This love was easily passed on to me, and has been coming out in my polymer clay work over the last couple of years.

Anyway, to give you an idea of the magic of Spruce Islan... er... Spruland, I wanted to share a poem my sister, Laura, wrote...

Spruland

by Laura West


The clear haunting cry of the loon

From the front cove

The chattering of red squirrel

After hiding bits of food in the tree branches

The gentle lapping of the water at high tide

The snap of a sail as the wind shifts

The rocking of the bell buoy

Ringing day and night, piercing the mind

The laughter after dinner

All sounds of Spruland

The wipe out of white fog

Golden red glow in the sky at sunset and dawn

Bright green moss next to red brown spruce needles

Bright blue skies cluttered with puffy white clouds flying on the wind

Pale pink of the underside of birch bark

The amazing yellow of wet seaweed at low tide

All colors in Spruland

The moisture of fog, getting into everything

The drying cold of a northwest wind

The stickiness on your skin left from salt water

The heat on your skin in the sun of a “scorcher”

The itch of mosquito bites

The smoothness of rocks washed by the sea

All sensations in Spruland

Spruland is dreamt into existence by the memory of all these things and more.

Memories pounding on the shore


I will leave this post as is, and not attempt to add more right now. I just want to let Spruland and memories of my mom sit for a while.