Island Images, An island in the sky, By Joe Rahm

Our island has given me many good days, but one of them stands out from all the others.  Nothing spectacular happened that day, and yet eight years later, it is still affecting my life.  And now it may affect yours too.

Spring was everywhere that morning.  It was in the song of a white-throated sparrow and the smell of rich, damp humus and in the new growth on the evergreens.  A brief shower had just passed, and now everything glistened in the morning sun.  Even the air had been washed clean.

The island seemed filled with life, and not wanting to miss anything, I set my chores aside and started down a winding path into the woods.  At first the path meandered among blue irises and yellow cowslips on low ground; then it led up a slope and through a stand of balsams, where it descended onto the shore of a bay.

The little bay was cradled in solid granite and protected from the wind by a narrow entrance.  Shaded by tall evergreens whose images danced on the water, it was indeed a delightful place.  And the arrowheads I sometimes found there said someone long ago had thought so too.

Long, smooth swells were entering the bay that day.  And as each swell receded, its water would trickle from countless crevices in the granite and fill the air with liquid music.  It was a cheerful and ancient tune.

And the scent of sweet gale hung in the air.  The clean fragrance was rising from plants warmed by the dark granite.  I crushed a leaf for my shirt pocket, where it would remain warm and fragrant for hours.

After leaving the bay, I walked through the northern part of the island, where sunlight never penetrated and snow sometimes lingered until mid-May.  Here, cedars grew and a foot-thick mattress of moss covered the ground.  On a whimsical impulse, I removed my hot boots and socks and walked barefoot over the cool, damp moss – and thought I had gone to heaven.

And so it went that day.  I thought no more of it until my wife became sick several years later.

As her sickness worsened, I began to lay awake at night worrying.  One sleepless night, I whispered a prayer for help and then remembered that day on the island.  And as I relived it sights and sounds, a merciful calm come over me, and I slept.

The images of that spring day have been my refuge many times since then.  May they now be your refuge too – your island in the sky, where nature plays liquid music and the moss feels cool against your feet and spring goes on forever.