Desecration

The Shurtleff homestead on Plantingfield Way has been sold and is now being gutted. While it is sad to see my great-grandparents' farmhouse fall out of the hands of family (it has been owned by my cousins, Pat and Gordon Tyra for the past decade or so), and very sad to see its innards being torn out - rooms where my mother and her cousins played games together by lamplight on many a childhood summer's evening - I've lived through enough change - have seen dancing eventually springing forth from tombs - to know that this is not the last chapter for this old house. Change is hard - especially when it's so close to home - but not always necessarily bad. Stay tuned.



The Shurtleff homestead in more intact and peaceful days.


My Great-granny Mary Isadora Lawlor Shurtleff, whose parents, James and Mary, hailed from Co. Kildare. I never met Granny Shurtleff, but have come to know her, in a way, through Irish music, which I'm sure tickles her to no end.

Twenty-one Years Today

Alison Boylston Piazza, November 18, 1913 - March 14, 1992.

A few years before my mother died, she planted a handful of crocus bulbs in the front of the Main Street house. Within only a few years they had multiplied to the point of the small front yard between the porch and the sidewalk's being a sea of purple. After her death, they always came into bloom right around her anniversary, beginning with a few blooms around March 14, the day she died, and climaxing by March 21, the day she was buried. Who doesn't love spring and seeing the first crocus blooming, but I have always found the blooming of these particular crocuses (crocii, actually, but who ever says that?) reassuring; this not-so-subtle hint of the theme of new life and resurrection being tied directly to my mother. The blooms have dwindled over the years - and I do wonder if the greens-boosting fertilizer that a well-meaning tenant applied to the lawn a few years back is to blame - and perhaps I will replenish the crop at some point - but I do look forward to their blooming every year, and what better day - or way - to get out and rake and clean - waking up the large muscle group while honoring my dear mother - than today?

Post-storm Wind, Waves, and Tide

The most recent storm has blown on through - and I do mean blow. There were times out at South Beach this morning when I thought the north wind was going to blow me straight into the ocean.

Friday

The wind continues to howl, and the tide laps the docks for what now seems like many days in a row. Butler's Mudhole overflows, and havoc has clearly been wreaked upon the path that circumnavigates Hough's Pond.

In Like a Lion...

...therefore, out like a lamb? That remains to be seen. In the meantime, I do love weather, and this winter has not disappointed.

Today's Weather Report

Okay, so it's not Edgartown. But I was on my way home to Edgartown. Stopped off at the car wash first (salt water works on cars, right?). I love weather - the wilder and woolier, the better.
























Cassandra has been down for a while now. The question, as always, is - will she rise again this time, or is it the final curtain for our little friend?

Dusk

Messing around down at the lighthouse at one of my favorite times of day. Honestly? I've never seen the lights on inside the lighthouse in my entire life.
My first reaction was, Oh, great - I finally get a free evening with the energy and inspiration to assemble my gear, bundle myself up for a cold walk in the dark, and some idiot left the lights on and ruined my shot. Ha ha - I actually love it.