Sasquatch

Actually the name of the little miniburg where Mom lives is New Suffolk but Californians have a hard time pronouncing it correctly. Population 345, a small bud of land less than one square mile, on the south shore of Long Island's North Fork, about 90 miles east of Manhattan. The North Fork is actually a little like California, like the Napa Valley but flat. Settlers came across from Connecticut as early as 1640 and the oldest house dates from that decade. In the Burying Ground are people who were born while Shakespeare was still alive. Once given over to potatoes, it is now covered with vineyards.

My grandparents started spending part of summer as renters here and so did we as children. Forty years ago my dad bought land and built a summer house. He and mom had looked at the site but there was no beach, just a drop off into Peconic Bay, so they passed. A few weeks later, they thought they'd give it another look. In the meantime the Army Corps of Engineers had dredged a channel and dumped all the sand onto the shore of the lot. Voila! a beach. Still there today, held together with jetties. In the late 90's my sister bought a larger home next door, where Mom now lives.  It is the one place all of my siblings and I consider home.

The late summer colors are clear and sharp, the weather still warm in the day and cool at night. It is a very East Coast ecology. Unlike the awesome Pacific coast, where mountains and cliffs push right up against the ocean, here it is pretty flat with just a soft muted rolling, forested and farmed right up to the edge of the Bay. Very different from the spectacular San Francisco Bay where I now live, but quietly and calmly beautiful nonetheless, almost modest.

After Toronto and New York, I am glad to be in this little place.

View of Robin's Island, from the front porch