Emptying out, storing up

There is a different tide that flows through the Cranberry Isles at this time of year. It is the movement involved with emptying out and storing up.

The first shift of summer friends has been gone for a month or more, and now the second shift is preparing for departure. Vacant houses are emptied of food that might attract mice, furniture is covered and shutters are closed. Our friend Joe brings his latex paint to store in our basement so it won’t freeze over the winter.

What looks like a nice clear area to put the boxes is actually the place we’ve made ready for storing some of our firewood. On a cold night or a stormy day, it sure is nice not to have to go outside for the next load of wood.

Soon, Bruce and I will start sliding totes of hardwood and spruce through the bulkhead doors, down the sturdy steps, to be stacked in neat rows in the basement. We’ll also start filling up the woodshed with spruce that has been drying over the summer. It’s a fall ritual that takes place on the days when he does not go out to haul traps or in the hour before dinner instead of taking a walk.

During recent work at the Islesford Neighborhood House, old laths removed from plaster walls were purposely piled in front of the dumpster to make them available for taking. A golden opportunity, the laths were gone in a day, retrieved for kindling by several people who also heat with wood.

Unexpected warmth at the beginning of October allowed us to ward off lighting the wood stove and looking for the heavier clothing that had been optimistically stored away for the summer. (When you live on a Maine island, gloves, hats and warmer jackets may be out of sight in August, but you remember right where you left them.)

Though the days were warm, the cold nights brought most gardening to an end. Soon it will be time to cut back perennials and empty the garden to prepare it for a long winter’s nap. A nice high tide will conveniently deposit seaweed and kelp at the top of the beach, making it readily available to be gathered and placed as a nutritious blanket over the resting gardens.

All over the island it has been a good year for apples. Lindsay and Jason’s cider press has been making its way from yard to yard for those who want to preserve their fruit in liquid form. Apple sauce, apple jelly and apple butter have been made and stored and will evoke the incredibly beautiful weather when they are eaten at a later time. 

Lobster fishermen are busier than ever, heading out in the dark mornings of shorter days to catch lobsters that are on the move as they embark on their seasonal trek into deeper waters. Some of traps will have their rope lengthened, while others will just be taken out of the water to be stored until next spring.

The ebb and flow of traps on the town dock begins. On one day a wall of wet traps, each with its rope coiled inside, gives off the smell of the sea. A day or two later, the traps are gone, taken by truck and trailer to be stacked outside workshops where their repair will provide winter work. The pace of this cycle increases as the good weather dwindles and lobsters hunker down in deep mud.

If they haven’t already, fishermen will start to stock up on the rope, mesh and wire they need for repairs. Some will have new traps arrive by truck while the weather is still decent for barging. Old traps will go off on the empty truck to be sold to other fishermen who will buy them at a discount and make their own repairs.

I am busy with my own version of stocking up as I spend fall days in my studio designing and making earrings, necklaces and bracelets for craft shows in November and December. As I sit amongst assorted piles of beads, drilled rocks, silver clasps and other handmade components, I am under the gun to make a fair amount of inventory in a short period of time. However, on a 72-degree afternoon, it took no persuasion at all to abandon the studio and join my sister-in-law Karen and other friends for a few hours at the Sand Beach. I know that the stored memory of an unexpected October beach visit, complete with ocean swimming, is much more apt to make me smile next winter than any amount of work I could accomplish in the same amount of time. 

Barbara Fernald lives and writes on Islesford (Little Cranberry Island).