A Generation on the Market

Bounded by Nature

From Gazette editions of October, 1960:

In one of the major real estate transactions of the year, involving the future of the Edgartown golf course and of golf as it has been played there since 1928, the course is about to pass from the ownership of Cornelius Lee to the Edgartown Golf Club Inc. Mr. Lee stepped down from the presidency last summer, to be succeeded by Robert Brown Jr.

October’s Fine Wares

The harvest is payday. All the planting, tending and careful work turns time for picking, gleaning and eating. This is true on agricultural fields everywhere.

Hurricane Forecast

We felt the wonder

of the moment. . .

standing silent, awaiting

the outcome of an event unfolding

untouched by human hands. . .

wind and sea spoke with voices far away

but touching us nonetheless.

fear and hope we held in visions of

our own device. . .

— C. Glenn Sprague

Little Doe’s Big Mac

It began with a dream while Jessie Little Doe Baird slept, in which people spoke to her in a tongue she could not understand. The last person to sound those words had breathed his last some hundred and seventy years earlier. But it became Mrs. Baird’s own dream to revive Wôpanâak, the language her Wampanoag ancestors spoke to express their ideas, emotions, knowledge, memories and values.

My cherry tomatoes have worked a miracle: they’ve made me regret the passing of summer. I don’t like summer. Almost every year it settles in like an occupying army and I just have to put up with it until it goes away. I love fall. Fall slips in, darts away, plays catch-me-if-you-can. Night closes in slowly from both ends of the day, polishing the remaining daylight hours till they sparkle, and the leaves rarely stop rustling. Summer’s torpor gives way to vigorous activity. I love the warm feel of flannel.