IN A QUIET LITTLE BAY on the back side of Fawn Island has long rested a goodsized boulder. By “long rested” I mean about 10,000 years. Since the last glacier grew tired of carrying it and dropped it off here. When we acquired the island about 30 years ago we noticed it had a crack in it, starting at the top and snaking down. In places it was wide enough that I could line up a photograph through it—a nice effect.
Then, one day, I found the boulder split in two. I wish I had been there to see it. To hear the splash. To witness the moment when, after 10,000 years of nothing changing, something changed.
Change is like that, you know. It looks like it will never come, never. And then, suddenly, unexpectedly, it does. It’s a good thing to know. A good thing to remember.