At our October book group meeting, before our discussion of Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver, one of the members who attended from Pennsylvania via Zoom asked us, “What is the island like right now?”
Several people mentioned the rain we’ve had every weekend, and we all compared temperatures from our various locations. I piped up with a detail I would want to hear if I were away: “The birch trees, everywhere, are all yellow!”
Throughout my childhood our family visited Little Cranberry Island for a few weeks in June and July. I always wondered how different it was in the fall and winter. In 1976 I moved to the island to find out. I’ve lived here ever since.
Mother Nature’s autumnal change of wardrobe captivates me every year.
Over the years I’ve lost some of the thrill I used to feel when I returned to the island each summer, but this time of year is a wonderful compensation for that minor loss. I continue to undergo a slight “pinch me” spark of glee when the days become shorter and I am still on Islesford to experience it.
Mother Nature’s autumnal change of wardrobe captivates me every year. The summer palette of blue, green, and white, with pastel accents, makes a dramatic shift when fall is well underway.
Dark island spruce trees, which camouflage the greenery of birches in July and August, provide the perfect backdrop to showcase the golden glow of these trees in the fall. I love looking deep into the woods and seeing their radiance where I didn’t expect it. Even on a gray day the flaxen leaves appear to make their own light.
It’s all the more special because it doesn’t last long. Seemingly overnight the leaves turn brown and blow away.
Not to be outdone by the birches, the Rosa rugosas make a substantial change as well. A summer walk to the old Coast Guard station or to Maypole Point involves passing between hedgerows of green dotted with pink and white blossoms.
By fall the leaves turn bright yellow and the plants are peppered with orange rose hips the size of small crab apples. From winter berries to pumpkins on porches to the blaze orange clothing we wear on our walks during hunting season, orange is a common accent to the fall palette of the island.
No matter where we walk this time of year, especially in the later weeks of fall, the light has a quality that I try, every year, to put into words. It is truly my favorite thing about November on the island. I wish everyone could see it.
By late afternoon the light shows through the bare birch trees at an angle almost parallel to the ground. The word metallic comes to mind whenever I try to describe it. It heightens the contrast of my surroundings, creating a keen edge to most any setting.
My husband does not share my love of this special light. For him and other fishermen, it translates as an annoying glare that makes it hard for them to see their buoys in the water.
In winter and during mud season I am offended by the color brown, but in the late fall I’m enchanted by the variations in shade and location of this rich color. All over the island, ferns, once green and tall, are laying down for a winter’s nap. The tawny brown fronds, with pinnae still intact, crisscross each other in flat mounds resembling a game of oversized toothy pickup-sticks.
The marshy areas, once a variety of greens, are now monochromatic, duplicating the color of Wheat Thins. On my walks I note the dark brown piles of seaweed that stay at the top of the beach after big storms. It’s time to gather up trays of the slimy stuff to feed and protect my garden over the winter.
Predictions of an El Niño year mean we will probably see more cold rain than snow in the upcoming months. Colors from that kind of weather are not much to write home about but “tant pis,” as the French say. I’ll be sitting by the cozy wood stove dedicating my whole month of January to reading books. I’ll be exposed to a world of colors and details whenever I want and I won’t even have to go outside to do it.
Here’s to healthy and calm holidays for all with hopes for more peace in the new year.
Barbara Fernald lives on Islesford (Little Cranberry Island). She may be contacted at Fernald244@gmail.com.
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