Yesterday, I went to Bailey Island, where my friend Sherry Hanson hosted a gathering of old friends. At one time, we all belonged to a group called Maine Media Women, and I’ve know many of the women for twenty years. Sherry, who used to live in Maine, moved to the West Coast last year to be closer to her family. How we all miss her!
Sherry and her husband decided to rent a cottage this August on Bailey Island so that they could stay connected with their Maine friends. They generously bought lobster rolls for us—there were nine—and everyone added something to the feast—wine, crackers, cheese, salads, and homemade strawberry ice cream pie with a strawberry sauce and roasted almonds. (Guess who brought dessert?)
Outside on the deck, we talked, ate lobster rolls—made just right with lots of claw and tail meat and with only a hint of mayonnaise—and admired the sparkling water. The weather couldn’t have been finer—warm with a deep blue sky. Sherry’s sister, Julia, joined us as did, Debbie, a friend from Sherry’s old neighborhood. Then there was Laney, Perian’s daughter. We’ve known Laney since birth, and we all feel like honorary aunties. Laney— lovely, slender, and on the edge of womanhood—is an island girl who keeps hens, sells eggs, and loves to ride horses. Plus, she was willing to run and up and down the long deck stairs to fetch things for her—ahem—mature aunties. A special, special girl.
When the sun set, from all over the island conch shells were blown, horns were tooted, and fire works went off. Apparently this is a summer tradition. What a way to greet dusk and end the day.