The Chappy Ferry Book: A Jaws Moment
At the end of the first weekend of sales of the new CHAPPY FERRY BOOK, ferry co-owner Peter Wells gives a copy to Lynn Murphy, visiting Chappy from Chilmark. Lynn, a storied Vineyard boatman and craftsman, played a critical role during the challenging weeks when JAWS was shooting on the waters around Martha’s Vineyard — a period in which the ferry itself played important roles both on camera and off. Photo by ferry captain Jeff LaMarche. Read More
I’m thinking about pig tonight
There’s a pig at the Farm Institute that recently had a litter of thirteen pigs. When I saw her this week, she was resting while all her cute piglets burrowed into a pile of hay, climbed over each other, and every once in a while clambered back to mama for a little nip. When they’re born, piglets have teeth, including some sharp incisors that must make the mother very uncomfortable. The teats of some nursing pigs get so sore that they bleed;... Read More
Something to contemplate about home sizes
No one can argue that the natural life of Martha’s Vineyard has an overwhelming impact on us. You particularly realize this on a cold winter’s day when you see people pulled off on the side of Beach Road, just looking out over the water, or when you find hikers in long down coats marching along paths on days when it would be better to be huddled inside by a fire. We love our Island; sometimes, in fact, we just love it to death. Last week, the... Read More
When Red is on the menu
Red came on the menu halfway through the dinner in the greenhouse at Beetlebung Farm. He’d already been preceded by innovative salads and raw kale with vinaigrette and delicious varieties of barely cooked vegetables as appetizers, so Red was just another part of the farm-to-table menu. Except, of course, that Red the Pig had lived and breathed and been slaughtered very near to this plastic tunnel greenhouse now strung with white Christmas lights... Read More
Answering the island’s call
A guest blog by Chilmark resident Kay Goldstein: The beckoning breeze, sun and water were growing impatient with me. I had repeatedly pushed aside their call during the day — turning back again and again to my work, ignoring the increasingly visceral pull away. Suddenly I knew that everything but the island herself must wait. I walked with my paddle to the pond. Settled into my battered yellow kayak on Chilmark pond, I began the familiar and... Read More
A love poem to Martha’s Vineyard
Oh, who am I, Lord, who am I That I should have the sea and sky; That I should own this bit of land; Be foreordained to understand The lowly language of the earth; In primal tasks to find life’s worth? Ah, bursting is my thankful heart My fate is not the crowded mart, For Thou in kindness destined me To love my meadow by the sea. A poem by Emma Mayhew Whiting, grandmother of Islanders Soo Whiting and Allen Whiting, and published in a book... Read More
The lessons goats can teach
Yesterday I had to help a man save a goat. Or so I thought. The goat’s head was stuck through a wire fence; I first tried bribing it by waving pieces of long grass in front of it, then behind it, to try to entice it to duck its head, wiggle its horns, and slide out. The goat grabbed the first offering dangled in front of him; the second offering behind him got swiped by the goat’s best friend, another goat. I knew then I was out-gunned... Read More
Now, all hell breaks loose
Today was the last day until late August that islanders will go to the grocery store after 7 am. It’s the last day you’ll see us in libraries or sipping a beer at Off-Shore Ale. Our hair will get too long, the paint on our nails will chip, and our clothes will begin to get a worn-every-day look. We’ll seem a little haggard. We won’t go to movies. We’ll stop speaking to neighbors except about how busy we are or how many visitors they have. Now,... Read More
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