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.

My Little Town - Zombie Apocalypse Version

Strange times, indeed. We are currently in lock-down mode due to a virus pandemic, the first such event in my - or anyone else's - lifetime. The streets are bare, stores and businesses are closed, events are cancelled, and we are practicing "social distancing." It's not too bad on sunny days, but the rainy days do get me down; it's gloomy, lonely, and depressing, and life's ordinary daily challenges somehow seem more daunting than usual. I gave up Facebook for Lent and was enjoying the wilderness experience, but this is truly over the top. Thank God for being able to get out and around with my little Lumix. The challenge, of course, is to see the same familiar scenes from new angles and in different light. I get the distinct sense, however, that I am repeating myself.



First stop today: St. Elizabeth's. Most churches are closed these days - sadly, even for Mass - and I take comfort in the fact that this church, only a block from home, has its doors open and the sanctuary light is on. 



The Port Hunter was a 1918 shipwreck. We are all feeling a bit shipwrecked at the moment. 







Anchored in time.



Even the phragmites look soggy and depressed.



Where's that blinking red light when you need a little color?









Will these mooring stakes ever be full again?

Captain Isaac "Ike" Norton's former boathouse and dockage.



The Queen of the Zombie Apocalypse - a threadbare teen skateboarding the wrong way up Main Street in the middle of the day is as emblematic as it gets, I think.