I walked daily, enjoying the island atmosphere:
the gardens,
the slow, vacation pace,
the sound of the waves crashing against the shoreline,
the birds circling lazily,
the boats trolling by,
and, if the wind was blowing the right direction, the sound of the horn from the ferry reverberating across water and island.
The best part of the island atmosphere was the architecture...
the old, Victorian houses with all of their gingerbread trim just intrigued me to no end...
While I was there, I read a book:
Island Passage by Sherry Hartzler -
a story about a family,
in their house that was based on that exact island.
So, as I took my walks everyday, I looked and looked at all of the houses on the island,
in that old section of buildings facing the east side of island.
Was it the one with the mansard roof,
or the one with the green gingerbread trim?
Maybe the great, pink, happy house?
I walked around that side of the island so many times,
each time trying to find
"the house" from the story -
trying to place the family and the porch and the sounds of the water from the imagination in Ms. Hartzler's writing. I'm sure that people that saw me walking,
not really watching where I was going,
thought that I had issues...
stumbling around and almost walking into shrubs,
and off of the paths.
I felt that I had almost beaten my own trail around that side of the island...
I never did think I found the exactly right house,
but, I kept looking,
imagining.
