Joanna Gilman Hyde

written July 29th, 2024

Today I traveled by boat, with my son at the helm, with my friend from the French Shore, out to McNutt’s Island, where I had not set foot in probably fifteen years.  We walked the centre road — now a grassy lane — to the former Cape Roseway Light Station:  a distance south of several kilometers bisecting the island’s wilderness, through sun-dappled shade where we rested twice.  We finally glimpsed the 77 foot-high concrete edifice of what used to be the very important light house manned by three families in the 60’s and 70’s (then automated in the 80’s). 

Our wooded trail opened out to a field of ungrazed grass grown up high — the island sheep had been removed too, several years ago — leaving the grass to billow around the concrete foundations of demolished houses and sheds and barns long ago meticulously painted red and white. The seeded grass formed a sea of faded gold and as my son explained that yes, the light itself had been dismantled (he didnt know when), a multi-colored helium balloon wafted into view from who knows where or how far off.  It undulated over the waving grass and I ran like a child to catch it:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU