Island Life

It was a misty walk down the tree-lined path to Wonderland beach this morning. As we emerged from the woods the cold Atlantic Ocean Lapped quietly at the edges the wide granite ledges that led us to a cuticle-shaped cove of nearly perfectly rounded cobblestones. While our two teenaged boys scrambled as far along the coast as they could, the dogs waded into the gentle surf, and the adults in our group admired the stones-- stacking them, skipping them, comparing them, but not collecting them-- oh no! For that would be, as we reminded each other several times, a federal offense.

Having had our fill of that natural beauty, we piled in the cars and headed northeast toward Southwest Harbor looking for a lunch location that would accommodate eight humans and two dogs. A roadside seafood shack with picnic tables was just the place, and despite the warning that our meals might take half an hour or so, we took a place near the wood stove and lobster pot. It was a chilly 60 degrees, and we welcomed the extra warmth. As we waited, the owner introduced us to Grover the goat, a tiny fellow staked on a long rope in the adjacent field. "He loves playing with dogs!" we were told, and Bill took Sonic and Isabel over to meet Grover. They were curious but rather polite, touching noses with the goat before he danced up on his hind legs and scared the bejeezus out of them. 

There was also a little wiffle ball diamond set up just past the tables, and so Kyle and Bill and I played a little ball to pass the time away. Soon enough our names were called and red and white paper baskets filled with fried seafood blanketed our table. As I returned to the pick up window to fetch some ketchup I overheard an older gentleman in conversation with one of the young cooks. "How much is a lobster?" He inquired.

"5.95 a pound," the cook replied.

"5.95 for one lobster?" The man asked.

"No, 5.95 a pound for the live lobsters," the cook told him politely.

"I can't eat a live lobster!" The man was very alarmed. 

"We'll cook it for you right there," the young man gestured toward the pot, "but we'll weigh it first."

"Can I have all I want?" The man .

"Sure," the cook said. "It's a big pot!"