What type of berry is safe to eat but not to plant? The answer isn’t so much a riddle as a home cook’s pro tip and a gardener’s cautionary tale. Autumn olives, small red berries with silver flecks, are abundant on the Island – too abundant, in fact. The native Asian shrubs and trees, introduced to the U.S. in the 1800s to line roadways and prevent erosion, today pose a significant threat to native foliage.
For jewelry designer and sculptor Gogo Ferguson, inspiration is only a few sandy footsteps away.
By Alexandra Bullen Coutts
Do New England’s top lumberjacks really live in West Tisbury?
By Geoff Currier
Islanders will flood out of their homes on September 13 and largely disappear until October 17.
By Charlie Nadler
Single earring? Check. Chunky cross chain? Check. Backwards cap, Reebok sneakers, and grungy mullet? Check, check, and most definitely check.
Fisher-people prop their polesIn sturdy holders, sunk in holes,Which leaves their fingers somewhat freerTo wrestle with their cans of beer.
By D.A.W.
Seventy years ago this August, V-J Day set up a string of events that led me to the Vineyard and altered my life forever. When victory was announced, my mother made plans to visit her parents, who were vacationing at the Harborside Inn in Edgartown, and we set out the next day, taking the Cape Codder train from Grand Central Station in New York to Woods Hole, where we would board the Vineyard ferry.
By Kib Bramhall
Sometimes the arc of the moral universe is long and slow, and sometimes it curves sharply, making up for wasted time. That was the case last month as scattered calls to remove the Confederate battle flag from the South Carolina capitol ignited a nationwide call to expel Confederate symbols from all parks and government buildings.
By Tom Dunlop
Forty years ago Jaws put the Vineyard (masquerading as an island called Amity) and white sharks on the same Hollywood map. The celluloid great white shark that terrorized beachgoers gave sharks a bad rap, and swimmers reason for pause, for years.
By Sara Brown
There was a friend of mine, early on, who said, ‘Paint what you love.’” Andrew Moore leaned against a corner table in his Harthaven gallery, surrounded by his own work on one of the first warm days of the season. Behind him hung a nearly life-sized oil portrait of his daughter, Hannah, a parasol perched lightly on one shoulder. “I’ve maybe done one or two commissions, but generally, I paint things that are integrated in my life or ignite my imagination.”
By Alexandra Bullen Coutts
Check Out That Librarian! Mayumi and the Sea of Happiness, by Jennifer Tseng. (Europa Editions)
