by Ellen M. Taylor, Writers in the Round

As a child, we would sail out to Star Island from Kittery on the family cat boat, made by my father and named “The Flying Clod.” There was always that moment when Star came into view, the grand Oceanic Hotel like a figurehead on the prow of the island. We would drop anchor in Gosport Harbor, row ashore for ice cream and explore the rock formations on the south end.

Now when I return, my favorite place to sit is still at the south end, with the safety of the hotel and my songwriters/poets family at my back. I love to stretch out on the sun-warmed granite, watch the clouds soar, listen to the gulls’ cackling and laughter, the roar of the surf against the island’s edge. There’s something so wild on that tip of land, yet so protected – anchored by familiar buildings and family. Everyone feels like family on Star – for indeed we are – sharing that rock ten miles from shore, isolated, yet connected.

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