Stage Island isn't an island at all. It's an earth-finger poking out into Plum Island Sound on the western side of the southern tip of the Parker River Wildlife Refuge. Fresh water plants like trees and scrubby shrubs grow right up to bluffs cut out by the tides' patient tooling. They live out their days in an interstitial and precarious place - right on the edge of where they shouldn't be at all.
Erosion from storms and tides moves the land and bends the trunks as the trees struggle to keep from laying down in the brackish tidal flats that surround them. Of course, it's a losing battle, as any resistance to change ends up being in the end.. Despite that - there is a feeling that one is witnessing a slow, quiet, kind of heroism as they cling to their lives, bending and growing extra root systems pointed away from the seawater - all to keep themselves upright...