This is the island of New Penzance.  Sixteen miles long.  Forested with oldgrowth pine and maple.  Criss-crossed by shallow tidal creeks.  Chickchaw territory.  There are no paved roads but-here comes Jed with the mail-but instead many miles of intersecting foot paths and dirt trails and a ferry that runs twice daily from Stone Cove.  The year is 1965.  We are on the far edge of Black Beacon Sound, famous for the ferocious and well-documented storm which will strike from the east on the fifth of September-in three day’s time.

(via ghosthalogens)

(originally posted by ghosthalogens)