On August 14, 1995,  seven
days after I purchased Mark
Island and the Winter Harbor
Lighthouse, I brought out two
lambs from my farm in
Goodwin's Mills, Maine.
As I had only a row boat and

, my small sailboat,
at the time, I enlisted a long
time friend and lobsterman to
transport the lambs, along with
me and two of my daughters,
Betsy and Jenny, the two miles
out on his lobster boat.
My friend's name is Fred Temple.
Fred  (right) on the
island's path. I call him
the "Gentle Giant". His
hands are the size of
ham hocks. He would
give you the shirt off his
back even if he were
broke. Just don't try to
B.S. him.  Everyone loves
"Fred T"..
Fred T loading a
lamb onto his boat
for the trip out
Fred T and I  discussing
the compass course to
the lighthouse. Despite
fishing the waters for forty
years, he had never
been on the island.
Apprehensive sheep wondering
what is in store for them. Ripped
from a  pleasant existence, grazing
liesurely at Teeswater Farm.
Daughters, Jenny
and Betsy,
keeping the sheep
under control on
the trip out.
Fred T working with a
knot after we tied up
to a makeshift
mooring at Mark
Island, and  just
before we piled into
my row boat with the
sheep. Fortunately,
as you can see, it
was one of the rare
calm days on the
ways in front of the
Sheep have landed. Now
free to check the place out.

I get  misty-eyed now as I think of
that  day  and look at the photo
(right) of Betsy and all of us
heading back down the path.

I still can not believe that I had
the opportunity to experience life
in this magical place for ten
years. Never feeling that I was
more than a caretaker, but
knowing that the deed and her
fate were now in my hands.

When I purchased the island
from Gerald Kean, he said to me,
"Your life is about to be
changed forever"

And so it has been.

Don't know what to say right now.

As I  post these photos, I am
sitting at my computer in my
house on land, looking straight
down Winter Harbor Sound and
two miles out to the island and
lighthouse as the setting sun is
reflecting off the gloss black of
the tower top and and through
the tower panes; looking like the
tower is once again lighted.
We landed, brought the sheep
ashore, and settled down with
our picnic basket. Too soon, it
was time to leave; to head
back down the path to the
boat, and head for "home";
leaving the sheep to fend for

I left with much trepidation. I
did not want to leave what a
felt was now my new home,
and  I was concerned about
the sheep, away from the flock
of 100 and the comfortable
familiar surroundings of the
farm from which they had
"I had been waiting
to go owling with Pa
for a long, long time."
Jane Yolen, OWL MOON