Wednesday, June 10

Foggy, misty and cool morning.

I worked on the mowers and began cleaning the shop. Brenda was preparing the living room for paint. She scraped old paint off the molding, patched and filled holes in the wall and then caulked. She was a little under the weather today with a head cold… and probably trying to do too much.

Last night I woke up in the middle of the night and looked out the window. Fog had rolled in and we were in a cloud, but the neatest thing was going on outside the window. It looked like we were covered by an umbrella where the frame of the umbrella was created by the light. This “framework” created a canopy of light and fog. Not something you see every day. I was tempted to wake Brenda and show it to her, but she was snoring, something she will deny in the morning.

The weather was not conducive to mowing grass, so I got a reprieve from that today.

Oh yes, almost forgot. I also got involved in the cellar of the house today. My intention was to sweep, clean and get rid of some of the junk down there. While I was working on this I felt some “eyes” on me. You know, that feeling you get when you know someone or something is looking at you, but you can’t see it. So, I quickly turned to my left and saw him. Our eyes locked and I said “Hi, who are you.” No response. So we just stared at each other, not saying anything. I tuned away for an instant to pay attention to another sound and when I looked back, he was gone.

Seems like an appropriate time for this excerpt from “The Ghosts of New England Lighthouses” by William O. Thompson:

“New England sailors found their compass in the sky, stars that would guide them over the deep seas, and through the superhighways of yesterday. The true sailor knew that once the lanes ended and the port of destination loomed on the horizon, the unmarked waters of the approaching harbors could spell disaster. This is where the humble but stately lighthouses took over; these beautiful but solitary guardians were beacons of hope. The ships crew would watch for those beacons and strain all ears for those tunes, the sound of the bells and horns, the sounds of faith penetrating through fog, snow, sleet, rain, and total darkness, calling to them and pointing the way for safe passage.

Many of these towers were perched on high granite ledges, impossible to construct, but here they stood. They were beacons of hope. The whale oil, lard oil or fish oil, was burning brightly in their lamps. The keepers and their families had a never ending vigil watching over the towers and bells. Their devotions gave the seamen a trust and security. As the ships sailed by, all knew they were now free from danger.

The keepers and families who lived on these little remote outposts had personalities of steel. They lived lives of hardship, loneliness, and were in constant danger. These families never bent, never gave in, and there some of them died, victims of a tragic event, an unusual calamity or misfortune, or a distressful disaster. Here also is where perhaps the dead victims spirit still lives, his or her apparition staying on, remaining at the lightstation at this particular location for his or her own personal reason. Their ghosts have been seen and felt, their presence is known.

There are several New England Light Stations that report hauntings. Strange and unusual events occur, some good and some bad. Such a Light Station is Seguin Light. A ghost or spirit has been felt and seen here many times over.”