Well, for starters, let me say progress on the book has been good over the last couple of weeks here on Hog Island. I hoped to get two chapters and the preface in better shape, and have had good success. The chapter on Maine as ‘vacationland,’ placing Hog Island therein, reached a conclusion two days ago. That one will need more work, of course, but at least it’s in good draft format. The other chapter about life in this historic family camp is budding with rereading old published and unpublished documents from the archive at Yale. Today I’ll be looking at the master outline and rejiggering how all the puzzle pieces might fit together for chapter 5. So all is good with the book.
Before I got here, I had asked Camp management to be sure I would have recharge capability at this remote, primitive camp. Sounds like an impossibility, but Audubon’s Puffin Project, who runs programming on this island, has used solar power for years on the bird islands in the Gulf of Maine to repower computers for record keeping.
Two days ago was nicely rainy up this way with some fog early and late. I worked right through the day on my Mac with its lousy internal battery life. Whenever I get low, I hook it up to the solar cell newly installed on the building and the magic just keeps on coming.
I was a bit concerned yesterday because under full sun, it would appear the cell was not recharging the marine battery that holds the magic. Hmmm. Usually when I leave the cottage at night to ascend to my sleeping quarters, the red light on the device blinks a couple of times telling me stored power is down, as expected. By the time I get back to my work in the morning, the light has turned green and all is well. Yesterday morning, not so. By today, though, all appears to be well. Looks like the solar array needed a whole day to restore juice to the marine battery. I do like crafting my poetry by hand, but putting the next chapter on paper (instead of my Mac if the power never came back) was a disturbing alternative.
I sit here this morning at a large open window, looking west into spruce and balsam fir with the water and mainland beyond, writing at the very desk attributed to Millicent Todd Bingham. I don’t know if her mother, Mabel Todd used it. There is one picture of Mrs. Todd working out the porch, though I can’t tell what the typewriter is sitting on. But Mrs. Bingham used this desk, so says a very weathered note tacked to its right front corner. Writing my book about Mabel Todd and Millicent Bingham at the same desk Millicent used to, perhaps, work on her Emily Dickinson publications is something to appreciate.
I learned so many things recently, rereading stuff I’ve collected over thirty years. Yes, I’ve read much of this before, but now with what I know I am more aware. Pieces are fitting together in ways they did not before. Feels good to see the narrative unfold right in front of me.
The writing process is working well for me here in this beautiful and historical place. I am grateful and sense the grace around me. As the power on my Mac fades, I will sign off for now and post this later at the Audubon Camp where I can plug in and get a wi-fi connection.
Good work continues. Thanks for stopping by to catch up.
Today’s elder idea: Millicent Bingham published four books on Emily Dickinson and other texts related to her PhD in geography. But she had this to say about Audubon’s program on Hog Island:
‘The work of this camp gives me more satisfaction
than anything that has ever happened to me before.’
Millicent Todd Bingham / 1938
images: top: Camp Mavooshen’s main building this summer.
later: Restored and refurnished interior. Darned comfortable, if I don’t say so myself. [pics by yours truly]