Visiting one of the Isles of Shoals

EAST MONTPELIER – I’d never heard of Celia Thaxter, so when the producer of our TV show emailed that the crew had a chance to visit her garden on Appledore Island, I was politely underwhelmed. Still, it was a chance to visit one of the Isles of Shoals, which had been on my wish list a long time, so I politely welcomed it.

There are nine islands out there, ranging from Star Island with a pretty big (if rustic) hotel to mere tidal reefs. I first heard of them in Kenneth Roberts’ novel, “Boon Island,” a retelling of a historic shipwreck on an exposed reef a few miles north. I’d seen them from shore, sort of crouching out on the sea, and thought it’d be a nice place to go, for either a day trip or overnight.

First, though, a little research. You never should go anywhere without knowing something about it. And to start with the beginning, you check out “Geology.” You can’t go anywhere farther back than that.

The islands are likely volcanic in origin, and composed or underlain by ancient syenite, an almost-granite, and in recent times (by geologic standards) molded and sandpapered by continental ice sheets. Thus they appear lopsided in one view, their “upstream” ends smooth and sloping into the sea, and their downstream ends, where the ice plucked rock from its bed and left it tumbled about, rough and craggy. The soil is predictably thin and sandy, which makes Celia’s famous garden a remarkable feat of culture.

Native Americans used the islands in the summertime as fishing camps. Later, pre-colonial and American fishermen did the same, though not establishing any permanent bases because of, according to one account, a complete lack of timber.

Enter the wealthy summer residents. Purchasing (from whom I haven’t found out) islands or parts of them, they erected grand summer cottages to which they retreated during the sweltering, smelly summer months in the cities. Celia’s father was one of these. Originally a lighthouse keeper, he somehow rose to a status capable of building a large summer hotel on Appledore Island. Celia grew up there, and began her island garden in front of the family cottage, whose ruined stone foundation testifies today to a catastrophic fire in 1914 that wiped out the hotel and several cottages, including Celia’s.

The current owner of Appledore is the Shoals Marine Lab, an undergraduate program run jointly by Cornell and UNH. The lab runs a passenger ferry out to the island once a day. The instructions urge folks to be on time, or else.

Which we were. Warned by our producer that I was “mobility impaired,” I got a seat in the wheelhouse while everybody else stood on the after-deck. Then, when we reached the island landing, I was greeted by Terry, the official island gardener, with a John Deere Gator and about the most pleasant and generous I’ve met in years. A native Texan, Terry seems to have found his bliss tending Celia’s garden and performing prodigies with the Gator over boulders and roots. I spent half my time happily in the air. A similar massage by a professional would cost you hundreds.

Celia was a nationally-known poet, artist and writer. Her last book, “An Island Garden,” written just before she died, was her most successful. Emerson and Hawthorne occasionally graced Appledore with their presence, but Celia’s closest friend among the illuminati was the artist Childe Hassam, who illustrated that last book, a classic among garden-lovers and a best-seller.

Many people come to the island expecting to see a large garden, but Terry’s bailiwick (besides driving a Formula One Gator) is only about 15 by 50 feet, arranged in short parallel rows. Her favorite was apparently the poppy; there are several here. Enclosed by a gated rustic fence, its flowers nodding in the ocean breeze, it has a calming effect. Nearby is a walled graveyard, hidden away in green brush, where the Thaxters rest peacefully after active lives in the hotel business.

The kitchen produced probably the best salad I’ve had in years, the conversation around the tables was congenial, and shortly we were hustled down to the landing, where the ferry rocked uneasily in unfriendly waves. A lovely day. Thank you, Celia.

Willem Lange

Willem Lange is a contractor, writer and storyteller who lives in East Montpelier, Vermont.