Magic at the Edges

I’ve posted more than once about in-between places, and the magic we find there. I found myself pondering the edges again after a few hours solitude in a very magical in-between place earlier this week.

Sauvie 5

I needed to get away from noise and crowds. I found a place on Sauvie Island, empty of other people, nearly silent except for birdsong, rustling leaves–and the occasional airplane.

Sauvie 8

It may look rural, but Sauvie Island sits at the edge of Portland, a short drive from the center of the city.

Sauvie 2

It’s an in-between place if I ever saw one: on this day, it even rested between seasons, at the very edge of summer’s end.

Sauvie 4

I could smell it in the air: the live green smell of leaves and grass mingling with traces of decaying leaves and wild blackberries ripening in the September sun.

Sauvie 3

And see it in the first changing leaves on the blackberry vines.

Sauvie 1

The path I walked skirted the water’s edge.

Sauvie 9

And I felt, often, like I was somehow between earth and sky, like a simple leap could land me among the unbelievable clouds.

Sauvie 10

My walk spanned the transition from sun and heat to rain; in fact, the first raindrops started to fall at the exact moment I reached the boundary of the wild area I was exploring, so one half of my walk was in sunlight, the other in cloud-shadow.

Sauvie 13

I often think I want to disappear into the wilderness and revel in the silence permanently. But the truth is such a life wouldn’t suit me for long. I think I’m just destined to always live at the edges of things.

Sauvie 14

I used to lament my fringe dwelling, but the truth is I’m more comfortable here. It’s a gift to be able to touch the edges of many realities, even if it’s sometimes an uneasy one.

Sauvie 12


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