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    The Little Island That Could… By Louise Applebome

    By Louise Applebome


    If ever I need a reminder of the fragility, unpredictability, and abundant possibility of life on earth, I need look no further than off the dock of my vacation hide-away in Maine. 

    There sits an island within swimming distance (for those who are so inclined). It was named Pumpkin Island by the home’s owners many years ago. But, lest you confuse it with another 
    Pumpkin Island farther south, just off the coast of Deer Island, that one has a lighthouse. This one, on the Bagaduce River, does not. 

    The Bagaduce is a tidal river or estuary of the Atlantic Ocean. Its salt water in mid-August is icy cold. But, again, if one is so inclined, a dive off the dock and into the water can be exhilarating and refreshing. For me, most days, just dangling my feet in the water seems refreshment enough. 

    Back to our little nearby Pumpkin Island (the one without the lighthouse). Because it’s informed by the tides, it is forever morphing from an itty bitty spot to added surface to spreading out, galore, and back again. As the tide rises, the little island is submerged. At times, all that’s visible is the one and only tree growing there (and sometimes its reflection). It’s shaped like a bonsai, beautifully curated and
    carved by nature. At high tide, many waterfowl and seals lose their hanging-out and sun-bathing perch. Most of Pumpkin Island disappears under water! 

    At low tide, the island expands exponentially. There are even surrounding baby islands revealed once the water recedes. Along the rocky shore, the seaweed carpets the escarpment and mucks up the surface of the water. Once the water level rises up the craggy rocks’ face, all the seaweed resting on the river’s bed stays submerged and out of view. 




    Surely, had I studied oceanography, I might understand the comings and goings, and the highs and lows of the tides. But, that’s not within my purview. Instead, I just observe. From day to day. 

    From hour to hour. 

    The close-by Pumpkin Island undergoes one metamorphosis after another. 

    Each phase is precious in its own way. 

    There’s no disappointment when it nearly disappears. Just elation and awe. 

    There’s no greater celebration when it expands and plays a more dominant role in the seascape from the house or the deck or the dock. Each and every iteration of the island presents a new way of seeing, experiencing, and relishing all the variety. Wonder abounds. 

    It’s a real-life example of there being something new under the sun every single day. It’s tangible and metaphorical, all at once.

    And, it’s there to take in if we remember to be present, to open our hearts and our minds, to hone our observation skills, and to remember how mind-blowing the natural world can be. Granted, this is just a brief summer sojourn. 

    Soon, I’ll have only the memory and photographs of this mercurial little island. 

    But, they highlight so much of why we practice yoga. Each of us, in our own way, can try to access the marvel of tranquility, mystery, possibility, and opportunity with each and every new day. The practice of yoga helps us to wake up to, recognize, and appreciate the sublime. 



    Louise Applebome, 68, is a Certified Yoga Instructor in Dallas. After “retiring” from a vibrant and varied professional career, she became a yoga teacher. She teaches all her classes on Zoom right now and accepts students, young or older, from wherever they are, both geographically and in their pursuit of a yoga practice. Louise will help you stay fit and flexible, and release tension, aches & pains from the body…and the mind. Her yoga studio in Dallas is del norte yoga You can reach out to her at [email protected].