Welcome. Edgartown News was born from the simple fact that I have ink and Dektol in my veins and I need to write and photograph more than I need air or food, and from my love for this little town where I grew up and raised my family, the town I have left a few times but can't quite shake for good. Here you will find the wanderings and musings, photographs and commentary; the people, places, and happenings - past and present - of a small island town: my home town.
Just a few from a couple of random and unfocused walks, trying to fill the hours and stay active, though in these unstructured times it's difficult to stay inspired. As I write, I don't even know what day of the week it is.
The evening before last I pulled myself up out of a late afternoon nest I had created for myself - shades down, wrapped in a blanket in front of a movie - and lo and behold, while I wasn't looking, and to my great surprise, an after-the-rain sky show had materialized, waking me from my afternoon ennui. I grabbed the Lumix and out I went, thinking I might find a rainbow in the east, above the harbor, but the conditions weren't quite right. At any rate, the light downtown was interesting and worth walking out the door for.
Yesterday continued cold, with a strong wind from the northwest. The light was not my favorite for photography - a little bright for my taste - but I persevered.
Following a ten-minute deluge, the late afternoon light painted the town. Above: looking east towards the harbor; below: looking west, back towards home.
Edgartown Harbor is still very much a working harbor, albeit quiet at the moment.
Edgartown's version of row housing.
(Above) When the wind blows strong from the northwest it creates tides that are much lower than usual - something about blowing all the water away. This is extremely low for Bend in the Road Beach. The cumulus clouds are also a clue as to wind direction. (Below) A few people I love. This is how we visit these days; take-out-window-style.
Yes, daze, as in "We are all in a daze because of the corona virus and have no idea what day it is anymore or even if it's day or night;" and corona, as in "On Tuesday the sun came out."
Three of my grandchildren live only a few blocks away, and even though we aren't going into each other's homes right now, we thought it would be fine for them to come and play in my yard - the yard they love so well - and I love having them here. We kept our distance while they (Ethan and Zeke; Orion did not come this time) dug in the dirt, made mud, and swung on the swings, and I worked in the garden.
Zeke asked if he could come over every day. I said, "Sure, we'll call it recess," since they are doing their school work at home. I asked them how they like doing schoolwork at home and Ethan told me it was "Kind of weird because school is for work and home is for play." Good point. I took the opportunity, as I love to do, to tell them about life in the olden days when we wore our best clothes to school - dresses for girls (well, umm...except for this tomboy who managed to get away with pants her entire grammar school career, but they were clean) and slacks and button down shirts for boys, and shiny shoes - no sneakers - and when we came home, we immediately changed into our play clothes. Our garb was a clear signal as to whether we were in school mode or play mode.
Ethan and Zeke-a-diggin' in the dirt; dig, diggidy-digga-digga...
Oh, water boy, bring your buck-buck-bucket here...
You can't see them, but the tiny little noses of the pea plants have begun to poke through the dirt.
Lettuce, arugula, and Swiss chard are planted.
There's something so therapeutic about smoothing a mound of dirt with a rake, isn't there? I remember a few years back you could buy a small desk-top box with sand and a small rake for the office for relaxation purposes. It's elemental, really, and the reason, I'm sure, that we love the beach.
A few of this year's garden treasures (so far).
Siberian squill
My mother's Japanese quince
Okay, Grandma - we're going home now. This path has been traversed by my family, going back to my grandmother, for approximately ninety years. The beat goes on.
The view from my front porch these days: not a soul to be seen. It was almost warm enough for fiddle tunes but I didn't last too long because of the chilly wind.
A bird I saw a couple of days in a row last week but didn't have my camera with me (a Great White Heron - never leave home without a camera! - which I managed to track down yesterday), plus a few incidental birds; a boat whose lines I happen to like; and a boy - well, just because I needed another B and I happened to have had a boy handy, fresh from this morning's dirt pile.
Tomorrow I start on the Cs.
The Great White Heron, also known as the The Great Egret.
Cormorants
A happy reminder of my scalloping/early married/young motherhood days.
One of my boys, pausing - mid-dirt-filled-shovel - to watch a helicopter fly by.
Ethan Silas Thibodeau was born on February 3 at our hospital to Jonathan and Kara Thibodeau. Ethan weighed 8 pounds, 14 ounces at birth and measured 23 inches.
Ethan is at home with his parents, on land that was farmed by Charles and Mary Shurtleff, his great-great-great-grandparents.
Ethan's maternal grandparents are Cathy and Paul Kasprak of Fryeburg, Maine, formerly of Vineyard Haven; his paternal grandparents are Yours Truly and the late Paul Thibodeau. Ethan's immediate family includes Uncles Aaron Kasprak and Adam Thibodeau, Aunts Maria Thibodeau and Rebekah Blu, and a 16-month old cousin, River.
