It takes no Einstein to discern...

D.A.W.

I’ve come to know that the junk hauling industry on this Island is not positioned for growth.

Shelley Christiansen

Breaking news: another summer has come and gone. But I’ll not bore you with the tried and true recitations of how the ocean is still warm, warmer than July in fact, at Great Rock and Norton Point, State Beach and under the cliffs at Gay Head.

Paul Schneider

Mary Breslauer of Chilmark had one small, vital job to do in the cause of liberty. And she chose to call Uber...

Mary Breslauer

Fall is a sort of second summer. One with shorter days, it’s true, and cooler evenings. But the water in the ocean and in the Sounds is warmer than in July. The local produce so beloved in August is, if anything, more plentiful, as are most of the fishes. There are not just bass and blues now, but blistering explosions of false albacore and – could it be? – bonito. There is a fair chance in September and October of clean waves sent our way by distant (one hopes) hurricanes, and the beach guards at the usual access spots have gone back to school.

Paul Schneider

When I heard recently that the Discovery Channel is coming to the West Tisbury Dumptique to shoot a series about the famous giant sword maker of Martha’s Vineyard, I was filled with remorse and fear on multiple levels. What if those worn-in, but not worn-out Spanish boots of Spanish leather I left there not long ago get discovered and are worth a fortune?

Paul Schneider

It’s not widely known yet, but birds are infiltrating the world of humans at levels never before seen. This movement is not driven by preference for our company, but by a perception among birds that few other choices remain. Their habitats gobbled, unable to beat us, they have decided to join us. Literally.

Wes Craven

My friend Ed called recently to say he is looking for a house to rent on the Vineyard for a few weeks this summer. These calls from off-Island are one of the surest signs of spring, as reliable as the pinkletinks that crawl up out of their cold, muddy beds and into the trees to start their nightly peep-peep-peeping for love and happiness.

Paul Schneider

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