Street Troubador

I left the house yesterday afternoon - camera on shoulder, just in case. Not much happening downtown, except for running into Mike - guitar on back - who was headed down to Memorial Wharf to do a little strumming and singing. The irony of course, is that Mike lives at my house, so I didn't really need to go anywhere to photograph him playing his guitar. Oh well, it was great seeing Mike in his element. The only things missing were an audience and a little warm sun. Oh, I get it - methinks the two are directly related. Mike is now Edgartown's un-official street troubador, taking up the slack where Dave Corcoran left off.

It was a fine concert, though hampered somewhat by the cold. Mike definitely has his own inimitable style - his gravely voice being reminiscent of Tom Waits - and I loved the song he wrote about giving the rooster the day off. Word has it, Mike has quite a following in Costa Rica, his home for the past ten years, and for whose climate he is beginning to yearn.

A New Perspective

Some of the same boats and views but with a slightly different perspective due to a new lens with a different focal length than I've been accustomed to lo these forty years or so. It's subtle, but it is like seeing the world in a new way, "Through a new lens," heh heh.

Thanks, Tom

So I called Tom Basset, the keeper of the town clock, to tell him that the light on the western face was out and by the end of the day - voila! - it was fixed. Thanks, Tom - you're the best.

Tom's father, Gordon "Bob" Bassett was also the keeper of the town clock, and I'll never forget the day when we were kids, one day while out and about palling around with Tommy, we were invited to climb the ladder up through a trap door into the tower. Wow - what a view - all the way to South Beach - and what an experience for an eight-or-so year-old. Those were the days when kids actually played outside, had free reign of the whole town, and had many adventures.

Anyway, here's what I now see from my window; so much better than a black hole.





And, a little later...(no time stamp necessary on these photos, ha ha):



There she is, in all her glory. I just love living only a block away from the town clock, seeing it from every window of my house and hearing its bell faithfully ringing the hours; a recurring melody - a primal song, really, since I grew up in this house with this bell's tone being an important part of the soundtrack of my childhood - tones that remind me that I'm home, from a-top of the building that was my grandmother's church, home of my earliest religious memories. My almost-two-year-old grandson has developed an awareness and love for this clock as well, pausing to listen when it rings and wiggling his fingers in an attempt to count the hours. Is there a better number-teaching tool for a toddler than this magnificent bell, I wonder?



Yours truly, April 29, 2011, the day the newly-restored bell was re-installed in the tower. Photo by Greg Blaine.

Red Boat

Red boat, Collins' Beach

Michael

Ten or more years ago, Michael Grasing painted my Main Street house, and did a fine job of it, too. I'd been thinking of Mike and wishing I could get him back to do the job again but had not seen him in a long time. Then, about a month ago, I happened upon his son in a local shop and had the opportunity to inquire about Mike - about his well-being and where-abouts - at which time Gabe informed me that his Dad was in Costa Rica, had been there for the past ten years, and was doing well. Before parting, I tossed out a casual, "Well, please tell your father that if he ever comes back to the island, my house needs to be painted again." The next week I got a call from Costa Rica.

Yep, Mike's back, guitar and all. Stay tuned for a bright and shiny house; by spring, you'll need sunglasses in order to drive past 117 Upper Main.

From My Window

Some days I don't have to go far (or even change out of my pajamas) to find something to photograph. This is what the town clock tower looks like early in the morning from the window of my Main Street aerie, brought close by my 100-300mm lens. What's missing is the light on the western face of the clock. The bulb is out, I do believe. The mostly bare branches tell me that winter is on its way.

Sunday Morning Light

I had just a few extra minutes before heading up to Our Lady Star of the Sea to lead the songs at 9:30 Mass and wanted to catch a bit of fall light and color before it's gone for this year. What did I do with my extra hour this morning? Sleep? Never heard of it.



Home sweet home. Is there a prettier block, anywhere?


Main Street, Sunday morning.


Street lights