Some people call this place “the rock,” as if the Island were more solid than it is. It’s usually not a term of endearment, as in “rock solid” or “rock of ages.” Or as in “that rocks!” and “rock on.” Quite the opposite, in fact. Though sometimes people might say they are happy to be back on the rock, it’s more often used in disparagement. As in: “I had to get off of the rock for a couple days,” equating the Vineyard with lesser resorts such as Alcatraz.

That latter sentiment seems to peak around the time we are putting together the issue you are currently reading, which is to say late in the winter heading toward spring. The timing is ironic, I suppose, since our migratory summer friends during the same time period are beginning to long for their return to the Vineyard. Daffodils are still months away, but any day the painters’ and plumbers’ trucks will start filling the parking spaces here on South Summer Street and the great spring spruce-up rituals will commence. More certain even than peepers are the phone calls soon to come from America, asking if we know of any cheap rentals for the first two weeks of August. To which we reply as reliably as towhees, “I’ll let you know if I hear of anything.” That is, if we don’t just say “Nope.”

It’s strange timing, too, since spring finally seems within reach, if not quite around the corner. Days are notably longer than in December, when the dead of night seems to arrive before the quitting bell. Storms can still come through and dump all manner of weather, but the likelihood of extended spells of truly cold weather is slim. The population of robins that winters over occasionally sings a few warm-up notes on mild mornings. Mud abounds.

It’s true, late winter heading toward spring is not the Vineyard’s finest season. The usual local cranks are, if anything, crankier than ever, having run out of things to say about summer people sometime in January and turned their constructive commentary on their fellow Islanders. The curmudgeons even more curmudgeonly.

But I suspect the reason has little to do with the weather. I hope the cranks and curmudgeons don’t read this far down because I’m about to speak heresy. What if the reason for late-winter desperation to “get off the rock” seen in so many year-rounders is because we don’t actually love having the Island all to ourselves as much as we profess? What if we protesteth the summer crowds too much and actually miss them? As the early spring-that-is-not-quite-spring lazes along seemingly indefinitely, what if we are compelled to flee the rock not to get off the Island, but to make sure the summer people are still over there in America? What if we want reassurance that, like the caravan of airstreams in What’s Eating Gilbert Grape, they will return?

Okay, you can say it. I’m off my rocker.

But that doesn’t mean it’s not true.

This article appears in Spring Home & Garden 2018.

The Lyin’ in Winter

“A lot has transpired in the last two years, and I don’t think that needs explanation.”
So said Patriots owner Robert Kraft as he accepted the Vince Lombardi Trophy on what was to many Vineyarders the first, and perhaps only, day of unadulterated positive news this past winter. And I don’t think that needs explanation.

Before the Super Bowl – yes, that’s how long ago we put this Spring-Summer Home & Garden issue together – I was considering using this space to explain how here at Schneider Tower I recently directed my staff to take all necessary action to ban the sale of ferry tickets to persons from seven predominantly moped-driving towns in middle-eastern Massachusetts. This action, long overdue, will make our Island safe again. So dumb that we haven’t done it before.

I also wanted you to know that we are going to have a full and complete investigation into the millions and millions of fraudulent voters in the Best of the Vineyard contest, which is the only way to explain why Sengekontacket always wins the best kayaking division when I prefer the north shore. It’s a disgrace. Illegal kayakers, some of them dead, some of them bused in from New Hampshire, casting ballots. Sad!

I was going to tell you that previous editors of the Home & Garden issue of Martha’s Vineyard Magazine have intentionally and irresponsibly downplayed the potential threat of a Bowling Green–style attack on the “historic tree do not climb” sign at the bottom of North Road. And that we will build the wall around that sign on day one, which I believe is sometime next week, and Falmouth will pay for it.

Most of all, I wanted to tell you that we are going to end this constant cycle of FAKE NEWS about how hard it is to find affordable housing on this Island. Anyone who looks at this Home & Garden magazine even for a second can see that there are lots of beautiful houses on this Island, all full of tremendous, very nice, terrific things. With beautiful, classy gardens. Believe me. And yet you look at the local media, at least most of them, and all that their so-called reporters can ever talk about is how there are not enough affordable houses on the Island for people to live in. It’s fake. They have their reasons for not reporting on all the empty houses everywhere! Open your eyes, people; everywhere you look you see bigger and bigger houses, with lots of empty rooms, many mansions. Plenty of room! But they don’t want you to know that.

I was gong to tell you about all of that, and more. But then the Patriots were down at the half with seemingly no hope. And down at the end of the third quarter. And down at the two-minute warning. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know who Brady and his bosses are friends with. I have some friends like that, and some cousins, too.

But the point is, the good guys didn’t put their heads in the sand at half time. No, they did their job and changed the outcome. It was a game to remember, and I don’t think that needs explanation.

Up-Island and down this past winter there were houses on stilts. Most notable, perhaps, was the beginning of work restoring the Old Parsonage in West Tisbury. That home dates back to 1668 and is generally considered to be the second oldest residence on the Island, which makes it one of the oldest structures in the country. Now in the middle of its fourth century of existence, for a moment a few years back it seemed as if the house might not survive into its fifth, when a preliminary application to tear it down was filed with the West Tisbury Historic District Commission. It’s a happy outcome, therefore, that the house found new owners with not just the desire to save it but, more important, the money to make it happen.

There is some irony in the outcome, however. The previous owners were members of the Whiting family, who can trace their Island roots through their Mayhew connections back even further than the parsonage. They had no particular desire to leave the spot, which their family had occupied for well over a century. But after learning that it would cost an estimated $1.75 million to repair, and that the town would not permit it to be torn down, they felt obliged to sell. “It’s mixed emotions,” Daniel Whiting said after the property was sold to a documentary filmmaker for $600,000. “We’re satisfied and hopeful that the new owners and the historic commission can do something together to preserve the house in West Tisbury as it stands.”

Down-Island, meanwhile, a classic nineteenth century home in the Edgartown historic district underwent a remarkable transformation. The house was raised on jacks and a new foundation poured, suggesting it would be lowered gently back down on a new firm footing. As winter gave way to spring, however, virtually every piece of old timber was replaced with modern studs and Parallam beams, giving the rooms higher ceilings. Even the roof and rafters were cut away and removed one truckload at a time. When complete, the house may appear vaguely historically appropriate when viewed from the street, but an artifact of some sort it certainly won’t be.

Outrageous hypocrisy? Maybe. But it doesn’t take much of a student of history to know that hypocrisy comes as naturally to humans as the impulse to add a new kitchen to the back of the old farmhouse, to convert that attic into a bedroom, to add some of those newfangled electric lights.

What’s more, history has a habit of getting misremembered and cherry-picked. Consider the following description of Vineyard Haven from Sketches of Martha’s Vineyard and Other Reminiscences of Travel at Home, Etc., by the Reverend Samuel Adams Devens: “A taste for a variety of colors prevails. It is not uncommon to see the body of a house of one color with the border trimmings of another. The fences are touched off in like manner.” Reverend Devens wrote that in 1838, but good luck to you if you want to paint your 1837 William Street home blue with a nice offsetting yellow trim. Those folks don’t even have a taste for a variety of whites.

Historic preservation and architectural guidelines are good for the Vineyard because they protect our “brand” as a nostalgic place with quaint old towns and tree-lined streets, stone walls, and gingerbread cottages. But they should not be confused with history, which is a chronicle of change and adaptation. And of hypocrisy.

Besides, what did Devens know about anything anyway? After all, the good reverend began another sentence in his 1838 book by saying of Edgartown, “This latter place (pronounced Edgarton)….”

We’re always on the lookout for cool properties to feature in the magazine. We find them via homeowners, designers, tradesmen, landscapers, and word of mouth. Once a cleaning person asked a client if we might look at her phenomenal house. For another article, we were so intrigued by an artist’s work, we asked to see her own creative home. Keep us in mind the next time you’re attending a backyard fundraiser in an impressive garden or you’re enchanted by a friend’s kitchen renovation.

We first spotted one of this issue’s properties on the Federated Church house tour in Edgartown a couple of summers ago. The Conovers’ compound is a feast for the eyes
and has an interesting history (page 40). Photographer Alison Shaw told us about a
magnificent garden in Chilmark featuring sculptures by stoneworker Lew French; she had been documenting his progress, and now we can show years’ worth of work (page 50). The Kauffs’ striking new Chilmark house was in Dwell magazine, which prompted us to delve further into the story of their design process (page 22).

Another exciting theme in this issue is cooking and eating outside. Chef and author Steven Raichlen shares some tasty recipes (page 64), landscape architect Kristen Reimann gives tips for designing an outdoor dining space (page 32), and poet Dan Waters muses on “spatula season” (page 15).

With other articles on green construction (page 74), purloined peonies (page 12), and what $10 million will buy on-Island (page 60), there’s plenty to enjoy about the Vineyard.