along the way

of dogs and days of summer

Jun 18, 2024

hi friends,

It’s been a little over two weeks since my arrival on Monhegan; I’m almost two-thirds through my month. I hadn’t intended to be so silent, but sometimes a summer runs on a schedule all its own, especially on islands, when each day is dependent upon knowing the timetables of the boats and the tides, of knowing what time in the morning Lisa brings her donuts to the store (around eight), or that the Ben and Jerry’s delivery is on Wednesday. From sunrise to sunset, there is always an arrival, a departure.

An island is bound by time.

For me, however, this month has gone to the dogs. Specifically, my time has been dictated by my dogs and their island antics, making friends everywhere they go.

In the beginning, there was Gertie and her getaways. Three times in three days sneaking out the screen door until I replaced the latch. I was never worried she wouldn’t find her way home because, on an island, there is nowhere to run where you can’t be found, but it was a nuisance nonetheless.

And then, there’s Violet—my almost eight-month-old toddler in the body of a beast.

I know. This is not good. Except she’s so stinking cute…

Mostly, it’s been about walking—a lot of walking. Our days begin with the equivalent of what I called “candy errands” when my kids were young. Barbara and Pam dole out three treats apiece for “good sits” at the Black Duck (psst, they’re not that good), followed by two more in the Post Office.

And then, we’re off for our first walk of the day!

The pace through town is slow as we’re frequently stopped by strangers:

“Do you live here?”

“What kind of dogs are those? How much do they eat? They must be hot. Do they liket to swim?”

“Where are the restrooms?”

“How do you get to the Brewery?”

and also my favorite

“When I was growing up, I used to have Newfoundlands.”

To be honest, I’ve become quite suspicious of this last sentiment because, COME ON, not EVERYONE could have had a Newfoundland, but nevertheless, I smile.

One time, during the course of a walk, I was offered a job, found a home for an extra faucet, was made aware of a forthcoming free furniture pile, ran into friends I didn’t know were already here, and had a lucky penny pressed into my palm.

All on the way to Cathedral Woods.

Traveling at the speed of walking becomes its own offering of time, embracing the slow and allowing whatever happens to happen along the way because

when you give yourself to places, they give you yourself back; the more one comes to know them, the more one seeds them with the invisible crop of memories and associations that will be waiting for when you come back, while new places offer up new thoughts, new possibilities. Exploring the world is one the best ways of exploring the mind, and walking travels both terrains.1

This is why I come here and why I come back: to take the scenic route and the long way around.

Violet and Gertie are with me pretty much everywhere I go, to the point I’ve heard it said, “I didn’t recognize you without your dogs.”

That’s not necessarily a bad thing; it’s just a different pace of being on island. Because the truth is, I don’t recognize myself without them, either.