From the Clover
Work in progress 20x16"
by Susan Roux
I've never experienced anything like it. We were on Deer Isle, painting plein air from early morning 'til mid-afternoon. The weather was hot and sunny so we packed our gear and drove to find a beach locals told us about. It was a tiny beach. A very tiny beach...
Off to the side I noticed a trail. It rose up a wooded hill. A dense pine forest, perhaps all growing on large rocks. Something felt very ancient here. The trail forked. It was a short walk. Each ended at a different location around a point. Three completely different beaches, facing three different compass points, all separated by this wooded hill.
One particular beach seemed to pull us in. Chris, Karen and I descended onto in.
A different energy existed there. It was powerful and it tingled inside us. In awe, we moved slowly, not speaking. Large rounded boulder type rocks surrounded us. The tide was low, exposing a tiny sandy beach. I was pulled to a large rock, where I immediately crouched to listen.
The rocks were talking.
It really did feel ancient here. It was humbling. Like these rocks had been here so much longer than any of us, they had even evolved to speak... Chris and I were overwhelmed by the energy we began to talk about our shared Abenaki Indian ancestry. Something here made us feel very connected.
Then Karen surprised us by saying she had Abenaki in her too. Her grandfather was a medicine man!
We are living proof that not all the French and Indians were at war...
No wonder we've become instant friends. We were already connected. Just as this place made us feel connected. Ancient knowledge seemed to be here. We all listened to the rocks. It was the vast areas of exposed barnacles crackling and popping. It put Rice Crispies to shame! The range of sounds it made was incredible.
A bit further, the rocks rose up on either side of us.
From there, you needn't crouch to hear the chatter. It echoed around you. How cool and spiritual a place this was! The secret beach found only at low tide.
It had so much to say...
We returned to our rental house to tell everyone of our magnificent find. They laughed at us. Talking rocks? Seriously now...
The looks on our faces must have sparked some interest, because the next day Mike wanted me to take him there. We needed to wait until low tide. It was misting, so I knew it wouldn't be the same. In the heat, the barnacles had closed tight. The sound was coming from within their closed shells. As though these tiny crustaceans were complaining about the intense heat bestowed upon them.
Much like I've been doing these past few days in the Eastern heat wave...
The sound was softer. Much softer. But upon seeing this place, Mike suddenly understood. He even apologized for laughing the night before. Armed with his trusty camera, he took the photos posted. I wondered how many people came to this beach and never herd it talking. If they were themselves chatting, they would have drowned the sound. If felt like our amazing secret. The place where the rocks talk...
I still have chills thinking about it.
