Month: August 2025

They say to know something well, you need to sit with it for a while. Since being perched atop Seguin’s prospect, I see Maine’s coast and history a little differently than I did just three months ago. Isolated from many 21^st century concerns, I’ve had the chance to really pay attention to things that usually go unnoted like the sage green-gray or saffron rosettes of lichen crawling up the rocks, the blueness of the bay berries, the skirt of bubbly bladder wrack between the tide marks, and the green ribbony snakes that lounge and slither.

On Friday, residual hurricane waves rolled over the cove and swept away the sandy beach. Tree trunks and floating islands of foam churned in the water turning the place geese had rafted and I had swum into a threatening swirl. The known became the unfamiliar in no time.

With fewer distractions than on the mainland, paying close attention offered something else- the chance to be amazed. I found myself stopping to think about the hummingbirds that made it out here and were determined to suck nectar from my reading chair’s floral fabric. And I considered the power of the week’s surf that scooped up and displaced tons of white sand in hours.

But it’s not just nature that can fill a person with awe. I imagined tubercular Fresnel deriving his calculations and formulating his glass or Winn creating the intricate metalwork components. I thought about fishermen pulling sodden wooden traps from dories and sailors heading home in a gale. Often, I considered what it would be like feeding a crew of hungry men or putting kids to bed next to the relentless foghorn. When I think about the resilience and hardy pluck needed to navigate life on Seguin or the nearby shore a century ago, it changes my perspective on what is important or difficult now.

Psychologists and poets say awe is the experience of realizing the limits of your significance in the world and that with this realization comes increased humility. They write that awe makes connection with others easier. So, the irony here is that by living offshore or visiting a semi-wild island distant from daily concerns, you cultivate a greater sense of connection to others.

There have been many others visiting here these months: young and old, groups and singles, timid and brave. Locals and folks from away have come. History lovers, designers, journalists, riggers, economists, scientists, romantics, librarians, home schoolers, doctors, raconteurs, whistlers, philosophers, investors, psychics, paddlers, farmers, film makers, artists, philanthropists, preservationists, pilots, dreamers, fishermen, mechanics, public servants, foodies, writers, dancers, and teachers have shared the views and salt air with us this summer.

For the quantitatively inclined: from June 4- August 26 we had 1,237 visitors. Peter and I conducted 322 tours up the tower (that’s 29,624 stairs up and down). We had 21 campers in the campsite and 22 overnight guests above the museum. The youngest visitor was an infant in a papoose just shy of two months and the oldest was somewhere in his eighties. People traveled from as far as Hawaii and Europe and as close as Popham. Two arrived with the moniker Seguin -a cat and a lovely adolescent.

Like me, I imagine they will especially remember their time on the island because it was hard to get to, there wasn’t anything “to do”, and while always the same- it’s ever changing. Sarah, an early July volunteer from Kodiak and Nashville, and later Chloe will step in for me and help Peter with the closing weeks of the season. Po and I will leave next week and try to hold onto for as long as possible the sense of awe found on Seguin this summer.

Just as I’d imagined prior to coming, time is not the same as on the mainland.

The elaborate rock folds, much like marbled end papers in old books, record the earth’s history in nuanced shades of gray and white. The layering, veins, and tumble you cross when walking the shoreline tell, for those who can read it, of epochs and times before time.

While I’ve been here, the full moon cycled from strawberry to sturgeon, and the days are becoming noticeably shorter with the sun making a much later appearance and sunset falling now at dinnertime. The Pleiades meteor showers are falling these days firmly marking August.

Purple asters and fuzzy crimson sumac cones color the bushes and fields replacing the yarrow, rose, and clover of early summer. Golden rod stands tall with blossoms waiting to bust out at any moment. The thickets of prickly bushes along the trails droop with blackberries- black, tart and seedy.

Gossamer insect tent encampments holding mysteries fill the scrappy treetops. Chenille white and black caterpillars now descend randomly from invisible threads seemingly everywhere. Black and yellow swallowtail butterflies flit in the breeze passing the occasional monarch. The osprey young now whistle and shriek in the cove with as much gusto as their parents, and the swallows apparently have slipped out without my really noticing until they were gone.

Time has been marked too by human endeavors.

Scores of sailboats rounded Seguin’s buoy and headed home with rivals in the 94^th Mohegan & Seguin Sprint. Their sails snapped in the wind, and we had a great view as they rounded the marker one after the other.

Just as earlier in the summer, we had a visit from another lightkeeper descendant. Jamie Hart’s great-great grandfather Edwin Wyman served on Seguin from 1886-1890. She reanimated his spirit just as the families of Herbert Spinney and Fred Kahrl had before her. In a place so relatively unchanged, it’s easy to imagine the quotidian chores of these men and their families as they lived and worked caring for the safety of others and the island.

The notion of time also factored in the charming visit of Robin and Declan and family. They told us about getting engaged on the island and later marrying here. Declan’s beautiful baritone sang “It’s a Jolly Holiday” below the circular stairs as the couple’s children Rowan and, yes, Seguin -descended. The place is imbued with romance.

Appreciating the malleability of time and recalibrating its scale whether geologic, seasonal, historic, or just one family’s progression from romance to parenthood has been Seguin’s gift this week.

Rock jumpers, berry pickers, bat watchers, football tossers, full-moon watchers, cart wheelers, tag chasers, cast wearers, snake catchers, bell knockers, satchel carriers, song singers, fear overcomers, nap foregoers, and paddle board balancers were all here.

Seguin was hopping with kids all this week. The children came with families, friends, and a summer camp flotilla. Peter and I watched the confident bound up the tower full of wonder and ready to take over our positions at the drop of a hat. We also walked leisurely up the metal stairs with the cautious and unsure and watched them slowly, hesitantly, haltingly overcome their fears. Littles presented me with sea glass and glistening ‘special’ rocks. Kids introduced Po and me to their stuffed animals and told me about their dogs at home. Some teens have come with friends navigating the boat trip on their own. Others arrive with family navigating the line between being a kid and being cool. Some kids chat away while others listen intently. Everyone seems eager to be here.

While usually we have arrivals in twos, threes, or maybe sixes, the Small Point Summer School visit brought nearly fifty Seguin sojourners all at once. Three generations rowed in and mounted the hill. Graying grandparents relished having grandkids make the same visit as they and their children had decades before. Games, questions, tours, and levity filled the lawn for a few boisterous hours. The age groups swirled together and overlapped remixing continually.  Watching them all was a great reminder of what summer and childhood in Maine were and can still be. Happily, all the kids visiting have thrived for a few screen free hours.

While we’ve had the usual smattering of far-flung visitors like kids from England and Germany, this week I want to feature all the neighbors who have swung by. Children have come from Bath, Harpswell, Georgetown, Bay and Kennebec Points, Arrowsic, Southport, Robinhood, Phippsburg, Small Point, and Popham. These young folks might see Seguin’s light from the beach, Spinney’s, or maybe their grandma’s porch.  Maybe, before they have always passed by but never stopped. They might be making the annual August family trip. At any rate, thankfully, many kids have caught or re-caught the Seguin bug this year and, hopefully, will become the island’s faithful stewards in the years to come.

Though less famous for painters than neighboring Monhegan, Seguin was still important in art circles. In the early 20thC New York artists led by gallerist and photographer Alfred Stieglitz began frequenting the area around Seguin. Marsden Hartley, John Marin, the Zorachs, and others all captured on paper and canvas the trees, rocks, and sea. In a 1914 letter to Stieglitz, Marin wrote of the challenges of painting in these parts complaining of the mosquitoes, broken-down boats, and weather. However, he went on, “Huge waves sounding on a rock-ribbed shore makes the heart, liver, lungs, everything, the whole human critter expand ‘nigh to bustin point.’ Then you live, live, live, and you ‘got to do something’” [Marin, Letters of John Marin. West Point, P.O. Maine, September 16, 1914] The book Maine Moderns: Art in Seguinland, 1900-1940 is a rich collection of various painters’ work depicting the island and area. Also notable is Andrew Winter’s beautiful 1940 painting ‘Seguin Island Light’ which captures with emotion the building, tram, sky and grass. This painting can be seen at the Farnsworth Museum in Rockland or online.

Following this storied artistic tradition, painter Roy Germon and illustrator Leticia Plate visited the island over the weekend filling sketch books with views. Once back in the studio, the artists will translate these drawings into large scale pieces. Keep an eye out for their work.

The trails are in great order, and the grass is growing at a more leisurely pace. Volunteers Gordon, Fred, Steve, and Tom gave Peter a chance to leave last week to reprovision the larder. Visitors are coming with regularity since the weather has been more dependably good.  Folks have arrived from far afield to take in the spot including someone from Mattawamkeag, Montevideo, Mysore, Nicosia, and Honolulu. Some passengers and crew from ImPossible Dream, an organization making sailing accessible to people with disabilities, venured up the hill for a gander. One couple brought their cat named Seguin for a tour and pictures – this event in particular piqued Po’s interest. Peter and I continue to be wowed by the curiosity and generousness of visitors from near and far. Each person leaves an impression, and Seguin makes a mark.