A gymnast poses mid-split – head and hands straight down, legs up and splayed improbably in the air above – while the balance beam below seems to be floating. A man plays a piano in a suggestively intimate manner; saying where one ends and the other begins is impossible in this passionate melding of instrument and musician.

By Charlie Cameron


This is the tale of a marriage, a home, and a berry patch. All three happened synchronously in a whirlwind stretch of 2007, when Stacy San Severino and I tied the knot in June and moved into our new house in Chilmark in mid-August. Together with her three young children (Henry, eleven, and identical twin daughters Ruby and Nina, seven), we tumbled into our new home after a summer spent at my mother’s house while our mid-sized modular was being constructed.

By Julian Wise


Let me just say, if I had a well-drilling company, I’d call it Good Well Hunting. But I don’t. Someone who does, however, is John Clarke, owner of Island Water Source Inc. in Edgartown, and as I learned from John, this whole process of locating water is a blend of regulatory compliance, science, and a dash of mumbo jumbo. But it all starts with regulatory compliance.

By Geoff Currier


From the road, the house looks ordinary enough. The small log cabin nestles into a woodsy hillside in a rural neighborhood in Edgartown. It belongs to Margot Datz, who has been making art on Martha’s Vineyard for thirty years. People still talk about her first show where she introduced us to her collection of lifelike soft-sculpture figures. Margot’s scallop shucker, who looks like a wizened snaggletoothed gnome, still presides over a table full of birds’ nests in her house.

By Margaret Knight


Oh, we loved those baby trees. Scraggly little things: bare-root tulip trees. One hundred and fifty of them. Let me repeat: One hundred and fifty of them. Only eighteen inches tall, they would eventually soar to eighty feet, with trunks too thick to close your arms around. And there were (did I mention this?) one hundred and fifty of them.

By Nicole Galland


Donnie Benefit and his friends Jim and Jane Klingensmith, who all live in Edgartown, have among them about two hundred years’ experience in the year-round economy of Martha’s Vineyard. And on the basis of that experience, this is their advice for the coming winter: Seal up your house. Turn down the heat. Make a lot of soup. A dire message perhaps, but one should bear in mind it’s what they would be doing anyway.

By Mike Seccombe


When we first tapped into the brain trust of the magazine to ask about the best things about winter, many of the responses were in reference to summer: It’s not as crowded, there’s less traffic and plenty of parking, we don’t need reservations at restaurants. But that’s not all there is to winter. Writer Tom Dresser, who’s done his share of Island tours, contributed the curmudgeon’s response to the typical tourist’s query about what Vineyarders do all winter: “In the summer, we fish and have sex.


As I pull into the Grange Hall parking lot in West Tisbury five minutes before nine, I see Ashley Hunter eyeing the cyclists assembled for the weekly Vineyard Off-Road Bicycling Association (VORBA) ride. It’s a cold, but not frigid, early winter morning, and the half-dozen riders are regulars, which simplifies Ashley’s task: gauging the abilities of the group and deciding on the skeleton of a route – though the ride’s path always changes once we’re underway.

By Jim Miller