Gray and Gloomy

Monday afternoon March 30 was another gray and gloomy day - gloomy as in weather and mood - and even though it was chilly and not very inviting, I forced myself out of the house in the late afternoon. I did not venture far, well, some people would say that a walk down Plantingfield Way, into and through Sheriff's Meadow sanctuary to Eel Pond, over to North Water Street, along the harbor, and back home up Main Street, is a good hike. Not feeling very inspired, I brought the little Lumix along anyway.

Not only was my mood down in the dumps yesterday - and a long string of gray, chilly March days on the Vineyard can do that to you even in the best of circumstances - but the collective mood is being challenged at the moment, especially with the announcement yesterday that our isolation and disruption from normal activities will continue until April 30th.

We did have a reprieve from the March gray a few days ago, which I took advantage of with a little fiddling on the porch (partly in response to a request I received: "Sara, we could use a little fiddle music from your porch right about now."). Passersby are normally receptive to coming across someone sitting on a porch playing fiddle tunes, but the people who happened by the other day were especially happy to hear the music and have an opportunity to socialize (safely, as my seat on the porch is a good ten feet away from the folks on the sidewalk - far enough not to pass germs, but close enough to converse). I look forward to more of this as the weather warms up, especially since our confinement will be prolonged.

I am staying busy with yard work and house work - I may end up dead as a result of the pandemic, but at least my home and my yard will be tidy - plus working on some of the minutiae I ordinarily wouldn't have time for (adding a bow-holder to the fiddle and bouzouki stand I designed last year - it's taken a whole year of using the thing; staring at it and thinking about it to come up with a simple design for the bow holder - and it's perfect), plus spending a bit more time on this long-neglected blog; plus making videos for my Music with Sara family music program, plus organizing and working with fifty years' worth of photos; also applying myself to various fields that interest me: cameras and processing techniques, drumming, Irish music, Gregorian chant - and yes, there's no end to the number of instruments I have on hand on which I could focus and improve.

It all sounds good, but without context - friends and outside activities - it's all a bit dry and uninspired at the moment - bordering on depression - which is why my front porch will become increasingly important in the coming weeks.

A couple of live daily Masses I follow are also helpful - Bishop Barron's Word on Fire, which connects me to thousands of other Catholics world-wide and offers inspiring messages is a good one. Today's message: "We are all on our way to the cross right now." To which I say, this is certainly a Lent of all Lents. Also,  St. Paul's Harvard Square, which connects me with my off-island Catholic home-away-from-home.

So, back to Monday afternoon: The photos are not all that earth-shaking or different than others I have taken in my neighborhood, but I am trying, as well as continuing to test (and enjoy) the little Lumix.   


I've always liked the rose of Sharon seed pod, and the little Lumix's macro setting worked well here (that is not always the case, to my continuing annoyance). 



A brief take-out-window visit with some of my family. We can still meet up for walks or bike rides, but we are all missing being in each other's homes. 

The Grannis house

Butler Mud Hole, with Eel Pond on the other side of the beach and Nantucket Sound in the distance.  

A long path to...(normalcy?)

Approaching Eel Pond

The wind was strong and cold at the Eel Pond landing, straight in from the northeast.

Nature's handiwork

A bit of sunshine

Forsythia, "spilling into a pool of daffodils." (from one of my mother's poems)

When the lanterns on North Water Street turn on, around twilight, the street is transformed into a magical 19th-century theme park, although not quite authentic, as I've been told that 150 years ago, during the whaling heydays when these houses were occupied year 'round by whaling families, the streets were paved with scallop shells, laundry hung on the clothes lines, children ran in the streets, and the homes were likely not quite as pristine and perfect (museum-like?) as they are now.



Memorial Wharf

(above) It's hard to imagine that this harbor will ever be wall-to-wall boats again.(below) Now is the safest time - ever - to bicycle through Edgartown.

Gasoline, Daffodils, and Surf

Today's meandering took me through Vineyard Haven, along North Road to Menemsha (where I was surprised, but not really, to find a parking lot half-full), then, with a vague idea of visiting Lobsterville Beach, found myself instead pulling in to Squibnocket (I can rarely drive past Squibnocket without turning in; old habits and loves die hard), where the surf was a delightful 3-4' and breaking beautifully off of the muscle bed - my old stomping grounds. Two surfers were out and getting good rides, and a few surfers were in the parking lot in various stages of either getting ready to go in, or finishing up a session. I was tickled by the smiles and waves I got as I drove in - prompted, I'm sure, by the fact that I was driving my van with the surf racks on top. Seeing the waves and the surfers - oh, and it was a beautiful sunny day, too, with very little wind - made me wish two things: one, that I had brought my big camera with my long lenses (I have dedicated myself for the past two months to using the Lumix only, partly to completely and deeply learn the thing, and partly because it's so light and handy and I'm sick of carrying all the heavy stuff); and my second wish was that I had a wet suit and could do a little spring surfing.



I've photographed this old gas pump on North Road I don't know how many times - with daffodils, covered with snow, and everything in between. I've never found out what the story is on this defunct side-of-the-road gas pump. Was it a gas station once upon a time? Was it a private pump for a farmer? You can't see the price anymore, but, as I remember, its last sale was at .49/gallon.

What is the word for this? Irony? Dichotomy? Incongruity? I'll settle for charming.



I couldn't resist telling this surfer that I was one of the original surfers here in 1968. I could imagine his thoughts: "Good for you Grandma, get back in your rocking chair."








(Below) South Road, Chilmark. Many Vineyarders make a point of up-island daffodil tours at this time of year to "see the yellow."

Polly Hill Divertissement

Let's face it, everything is a diversion at this point; a distraction from the grim reality that has plagued our world at this time. A walk around Polly Hill Arboretum was my second such distraction and time-filler for today. I really can't complain because some people are being held captive in far less beautiful environments. Since this is the third blog post for today I'll let the photos speak for themselves. Tomorrow we will be one day closer to normal.















This flower is called Lenten Rose - perfect, since it blooms during Lent and it's the same color as the priest's vestments on Laetare Sunday (fourth Sunday in Lent).

West Chop Wanderings

I took advantage of a trip to pick up contact lenses at my eye doctor's office today - actually from a cooler on his porch - to take a quick stroll on the beach at the West Chop Beach Club, with one eye open for beach glass (to no avail). The wind was whipping off the water from the northeast, causing me to not linger, but it was a pleasant sojourn. I was surprised to discover that the little Lumix handled seagulls a-flight with aplomb.

The State of Things

We are now in full-blown stay-at-home mode. Yes, we can go out for a walk - thank God. We do expect the streets to be quiet this time of year, but this is beyond the beyond - eerie, surreal. God save us all.


Main Street, looking west, late afternoon.

Main Street, downtown.

Court house parking lot.

Downtown - a new way of interacting: six feet apart.

Winter Street



Plantingfield Way

                                             Main Street, downtown Edgartown.