For Key West
Seems like Hurricane Irma is all I can think about. The devastation in some places in the Keys is hard to comprehend and my heart breaks for that beautiful string of islands. I feel deeply connected to Key West, the island I once called home. And to all the Keys where I once sailed, swam, worked, and lived a totally charmed existence.
In the morning's quiet, I walk back to my
house. I quickly throw the kindling, newspaper, and logs into the wood
stove. I am proud of how adept I have become at starting fires. In only a
matter of minutes, a roaring fire engulfs my small stove and the heat begins to
make its way through the chill. Soon I am surrounded by a warmth, which
only one who knows a wood fire can fully comprehend. I am totally at
peace and want to be nowhere but here. Yet tonight I will dream of Key
West.
In an attempt to get my mind on something other than Irma's aftermath, I began to stack wood today. Getting ready
for winter.
My mind kept wandering to my days in Key West. I remembered that leaving Key West was not an easy decision, but progress and too many tourists were changing the quality of life I'd once known. I finally made a terribly tough decision to leave Key West and bought a house in
Pennsylvania, a completely land-locked area. I entered a period of confusion,
which exists to this day. I had lived in Key West for over twenty years
and being near the sea, well that was home.
Shortly after I settled
into my country home, a literary journal in Key West was focusing their first
issue on the healing power of salt and the sea. The confusion about my
living situation prompted me to submit an essay for their first publication.
The journal didn't accept my
submission, but they sent me
copies of their publication for a long while. That was great because I fell in
love with the journal and it kept me connected in a small way to my
island home. The journal was called "The Secret Of Salt."
There is a "secret," and only those who know the sea
deeply can truly understand.
Here's my essay: (posted once before in my blog, but bore repeating today)
Wood and Salt
It is only in recent years that I
have been drawn to the remarkable quality of wood. There is a certain
allure with the smell of wood and the special warmth it provides me during the
long cold winters. These days I often feel that wood has healing qualities
much like the solace I used to find with the salt and sea.
I don't recall how or when this
happened. I remember thinking that I would live on my island home of Key
West forever. I was captivated by that island like one is attracted to a
crazy lover. I was addicted to the tropical waters, my love of sailing,
the wondrous feeling of dried salt on my body, and the scents and smells of a
place that never quite leave you. I had found a home that was closer to
whatever I thought God was at the time. I was a free spirit and
wonderfully happy. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would find
myself living on a remote hilltop in rural Pennsylvania some twenty
years later.
Today it is early morning when that
first hint of light is attempting to wake up the world. I walk out slowly
to the woodshed and gaze at the fresh snow that has fallen during the
overnight. Bitter cold hurts. Utter stillness comforts. I gather as
much wood as I can possibly hold to heat my little house for the morning.
My mind wanders to a time in Key West many years ago when I read about snow and
silence in a small northeastern town. I had secretly longed for this
experience. I wanted to hear the nothingness, to know this totally
different world. And today, the only sound for miles around is my boots
crunching in this icy snow. I have arrived.
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| I feel the contrast of my life in this photo, the wood, the paddle, and the painting somewhat hidden - an island I once visited on a sailboat. Sadly, all my photos of Key West have recently disappeared from my computer (?) |
