I wonder if there are more days of transition on Chappy than there are of stability. Flux takes over where stillness leaves off. The ocean rolls to the bluff, from the left and right, coming up short, then licking at its toes. Birds fly in, land on their favorite wires in the thousands, and leave in groups of hundreds, unsettling the air with the vibration of wings and chords of song. The derby ends, the Ford F-150s return the lumber to the beds where poles lay. Houses close their doors to the last breath of humid air, and boiling of corn water.

This is the time of year the leaves of Chappy do the most traveling. Oak leaves blow to pine beds, while pine needles find their way into stands of little bluestem. All are encouraged by the wind to expand their horizons. We have a solo oak in a stand of our pitch pines — like a Republican up-Island. But this one oak seems responsible for an inordinate amount of leaves on our first green. I’ve often searched for an overlooked oak, some phantom hardwood that was aiding and abetting this crime — but there is only the one.

Come spring (yes, I’m already wishing away winter), our Big Camp will be reborn — opening its doors to sandy feet and fishy hands. But presently it’s tired. It’s ready for bed. The Big Camp is our Brett Favre — it ages considerably through the season and thinks each may be its last. But every year it’s back, unable to resist the adoration of its fans and the love of its duty. But the Big Camp doesn’t throw stupid interceptions.

So closing the Big Camp is something it awaits like a mom staying up for the last teen to come home at night. It’s ready for sleep but needs to know everything is okay. I usually wait for the windiest, wettest, most finger-chapping day to start the process, and this season was no different. Save for that day earlier this month when the sea, goaded by the wind, rained sideways against my face — this was the worst weather day. But despite nature’s discouragement, furniture got covered, toasters were shaken free of their last crumb, and pipes were liberated of water. Put to bed. Good night, Big Camp. Sleep tight.

I should mention that while on my back beneath the laundry sink warring with an end cap, I was visited by one of the Big Camp’s local ambassadors — a small rat or very large mouse (does it really matter which?) strolled across my belly. Obviously fatigued from a busy day, there was no scampering in its soul, so it really did take its time in traversing the obstacle in it path, stopping mid-abdomen to perhaps mull its decision to travel west — did he leave the iron on? I did not scream, not because of an innate male steeliness, but because the rodent’s leisurely attitude had a soothing effect. Take it easy, Brad, the world turns at its own steady pace, he seemed to say. I’ve heard that being pooped on by a bird is a good omen. I choose to believe that being trod upon by a mouse or rat is equally fortuitous. We shall see.

As for Chappy news? I don’t know really; I’ll see if I can dig something up for next week. Get busy Chappy people — do something newsworthy! Or not.

The potluck at the Community Center on Wednesday, Nov. 3 will be hosted by Judy Buss and Paul Cardello. Appetizers start at 6 p.m. Bring a main course or dessert dish to share. All are welcome.

The 2011 Chappy photo calendar is about to be published. If you haven’t received an order form, you can download one at The calendars will be shipped to the Community Center in time for mailing or pickup at Thanksgiving time at the open house and craft sale held on Saturday, Nov. 27 from 2 to 4 p.m. If you have a craft or other item you’d like to sell at the open house, please contact Margaret at 508-627-8222 or e-mail