They’re tearing it down.
In case you hadn’t heard, the Stop and Shop
grocery store on Pleasant Street is on its way out.
My daughter and I went on a last sentimental visit:
Where oh where are the One Direction fanzines?
The store stops here.
Basically, the part that used to be ‘Island Variety’
and ‘Nantucket Wine and Spirits’ is now gone.
Where are my rice cakes?
At least they still have the watermelon candles.
They make me happy.
No, no! No more Annie’s vegetable lasagna.
Hmmmm. What else is missing?
The posts are still here.
Every one of my kids squeezed through these posts
whenever we went shopping.
It was a tradition.
Now my last baby squeezes through
for the last time.
A poignant moment.
Not for her.
Although the loss of Hall’s Vitamin C drops
seems to be hitting hard.
And the missing beauty products…
We’ll miss you, Old Stop and Rob.
Thanks for the memories.
First, my laptop fell.
The computer folk said the hard-drive was broken
and all my photos had been lost.
Unless, of course, I sent it to a data recovery company
and paid hundreds to get them back.
Soooo, I went to YouTube,
looked up Data Recovery,
and found out how to do it myself. Hehheh.
I had to buy a $30 USB SATA/IDE adapter
but it was a lot cheaper than the alternative.
Then, my camera went wonky.
All the pictures looked like this.
Thank you, Camera Shop,
for a terrific point-and-click Olympus
which lasted seven years and took over
May I have a new one, please?
Sadly, they didn’t have an Olympus in stock,
so I bought a Fujifilm T550.
Basic point-and-shoot but not waterproof.
No more underwater shoots for me.
New camera, new hard-drive,
dozens of stories I didn’t get to tell.
But now I can:
Pick-your-own-tomatoes at Bartlett’s Farm. Woo-hoo!
Tomato Turtles. All you can see is the backs.
Tobias picked over 100 lbs. for his household.
We picked 60 lbs. for ours,
enough to get us through the winter.
Happy pickers, heading back–
Behind a classic tractor.
Now the real work begins.
It’s not like the Allman Brothers concert I went to in college.
Oh no, this was a once-in-a-lifetime event.
First of all, my teen has a summer job, with tips.
Lots of tips. so she could afford to help with expenses.
Tickets were $102. Which, if you know me, is ridiculous.
That’s why she helped.
Plus, we live on an island
and have the additional expense of taking a boat or plane to America.
That’s my beloved at Brant Point seeing us off.
And my youngest in bliss just to be at the venue, Gillette Stadium.
As were these matching girls.
and a few guys, dads?, wearing sunglasses.
We drove a rental car. Most folk drove their own
(it doesn’t cost them hundreds of extra dollars to bring it over on a ferry)
Properly decorated and equipped with a grill and picnic fixings.
There was a lot of off-key singing and sign-painting.
‘Sorry, Niall, my dad says I’m too young to date.’
Where We Are Tour, homemade t-shirts.
So much creativity!
Here come the fans, 68 thousand altogether,
across Route 1 from the parking lot.
The police and volunteers were highly organized.
Heading in. She ran all the way up the wrong ramp
and was so excited she didn’t even mind.
Her cousin, Emily, was stuck in traffic and didn’t get to the stadium
for another half-hour but the warm-up band was still playing.
She texted us when she found her seat.
How did we know when One Direction came on?
The roar. I didn’t even know girls could make that noise.
I sat with Emily’s mom here, outside the park.
We could hear just fine.
The band comes onstage at 2:12.
You’ll be able to tell.
It was worship, pure and simple.
Every girl there was 100% in the moment:
singing along, screaming, dancing, waving their iPhone.
Nothing else mattered, just the band.
It’s one of the things that I love about teens:
their absolute capacity for devotion.
When a teen goes after what they want,
they do so whole-heartedly.
I pray my own–all six–would love Jesus
the way these kids love One Direction.
That’s where the forever joy lies.
We went out for ice cream after the concert,
letting the traffic clear a bit.
We got to bed around 3 am (I got lost) then
back to Nantucket the next morning
after a potentially hellacious 4 hour stuck-in-traffic
car ride back to Hyannis.
Only potentially because of the 2 sweet girls
riding with me,
singing One Direction songs.
The music never ends.
A long, long time ago, last June,
I spent hours pinching off peaches.
Each branch of our peach trees had 20 or so tiny peaches.
Each branch can fully grow only one, maybe 2.
So off came the extras.
And the effort paid off.
Even in the high branches.
A pinching off of excess ‘stuff’ and activities
in the rest of my life may well prove equally fruitful.
More sweetness: from our hive.
The bees have filled the frames.
All that excess comb on top!
Sweetness guarded by stings, a bee suit helps.
One more harvest: wineberries.
These are an invasive raspberry relative from Asia.
We love them.
As does one cheeky catbird who swoops in even
when we’re picking.
The beginning of winter stores.
Saving summer sweet to get through bitter winter.
Nantucket and art go together like peanut butter and jelly.
The Collective Shenanigans show at Pumpkin Pond Farm
is my favorite of the summer.
The spark of creativity that God gives each of his creatures
blasts out in every direction at this show.
From traditional beach scenes
to resin blocks
with tiny bits of plants in them.
The lightbox underneath highlights the flora.
No one passed this piece without playing-
rearranging blocks into different patterns.
It was rather addictive…
Man in Jerusalem by Nancy Jakubik,
To floral pinks.
And a tapestry-hung room in the back showing animation videos.
This weaving’s untitled but it says ‘Autumn Rest’ to me.
Sustenance provided by Roamin’ Pizzeria
from their wood-fired oven.
Tonight, 6-midnight, is closing night, featuring fire dances at 10.
Not to be missed.
For those of you who don’t live on Nantucket
but wanted to tour our garden,
here you go:
Last March it looked like this.
A few leeks hanging on.
Mostly cleaned out by the chickens.
August. Come on in.
This Sweet100 tomato vine is at the garden’s entry.
In theory, tiny tomatoes are ready-to-eat.
In reality, if I don’t get this plant tied up soon,
the ants are going to get all the tomatoes.
The source of our fertile soil, the henhouse.
The 6-week old chickens are allowed in the popcorn garden.
They eat all the weeds and leave the corn alone.
Milkcrates cover the sweet potatoes.
No way they’ll leave those alone.
We do let them have whatever escapes the crate.
Safe from the chicks but not the crows.
We might have to cover with deer netting
to keep them out.
This has been our best grape year yet,
due to some expert help in the spring.
Little Finger eggplant, ready to pick.
Stir-fry here we come.
Butternut squash, a favorite.
Mostly because vine-borers leave them alone.
Cutting out vine-borer grubs is my least favorite garden chore.
Kale. And more kale.
No such thing as too much kale.
Pumpkins on the chicken yard fence.
This one will have to go in a net bag to hold its weight.
Lots of cukes this year.
Also lots of cucumber beetles.
Every morning, after breakfast, it’s bug squashing time.
Lavender along the path releases its scent.
Zinnias, red, orange, then yellow.
The grayest rainy day can’t overpower zinnias.
Echinacea attracts bumblebees.
If the plants survive this winter,
we’ll harvest buds next year to make an immune-boosting tea.
Onion tops tipping, Ready to pull.
Potatoes, mostly Yukon gold, are in the process of being dug.
It’s a bit like a treasure hunt.
Garlic already harvested, fourth of July.
The garden in full production:
and two chairs for sitting and chatting.
The perfect spot to listen for the Lord’s voice.
In case you missed the parking ticket post,
here it is.
On Nantucket there is a way to contest a ticket.
Every Wednesday from 2-3 at 2 Fairgrounds Rd.
Mr. Gardner will listen to your side and look at your pictures.
When I showed him where I was parked, he forgave the ticket.
It really does look like a heavily used spot.
I asked for permission to mark the spot so others
wouldn’t get ticketed and he thought that was a good idea.
See, that’s what I love about Nantucket,
if there’s a problem, you can try to solve it.
No point in protesting an unfair ticket if I’m not
prepared to do something about it.
Sadly, when I got there, I found yet another ticketed car.
I wrote a note and asked them to put my rock signs
in place when they left.
They either say no parking or no puking.
Either activity is frowned on in this location.
This space is no longer generating multiple $50 tickets.
To my readers:
Beware: this post is not my normal style.
I’ve loved Jesus for decades, and knowing
I’m the beloved of my King gives me a sunny disposition.
The back story, in list form
(I make lists when I’m furious, I don’t know why)
1. I gave up my car over a year ago. We used the money we saved on a trip to Costa Rica.
2. Our fish market has a table at the Farmer’s Market every Saturday, 9-1. I’m the unpaid staff.
Cute, but unpaid.
3. Usually, David drops me off and sends an employee to pick me up. There’s a lot to unload.
4. This week David was in the Triathlon–he finished in 1:33. Therefore, he couldn’t drop me off.
5. So, I borrowed a friend’s car, loaded it up, dropped off the fish, table, umbrella etc. at the market.
6. I parked my friend’s car in the town ‘Visitor’s Parking’ lot. Like this:
7. I did think it wasn’t an entirely kosher spot because of the boards to the side but, obviously,
lots of people have parked here before.
8. It’s a bit of a walk back to the Farmer’s Market but at least I wouldn’t have to leave
my table to move my car to avoid a ticket, it was safe in the town lot.
9. After 4 hours I walked back to the lot to pick up my car so I could break down my booth.
10. Only to find this:
When I asked the officer why a ticket,
she said I was parked on a ‘greenspace’.
And ‘people always park there and they always get a ticket.’
These cars weren’t on the ‘greenspace’ but they got tickets too.
When I got back from breaking down my booth there was, indeed,
another car in the ‘greenspace’.
So, what was originally a wry acceptance of my own folly
has now morphed into fury at a police department
that makes up arbitrary violations in order to scam our visitors.
There are no marked spaces in the ‘Visitors Parking’.
Ticketing should not happen unless traffic is being blocked.
That’s why I’m livid.
Bad parking is irritating.
Bad policing is unconscionable.
A crack of dawn drive out to see the ‘Sconset sunrise.
Here’s the road:
Maybe we should have left at 4:45, instead of 5.
The clouds are already reflecting glory.
softly, in the mist.
Dawn over an ancient ocean.
Reflected in a Codfish Park window.
And the eyes of a rosehip munching rabbit.
Peeking ’round the porch.
grass sparkling in the mist.
Back to training for the Nantucket Triathlon.
Serenity, for the eye and soul,
makes it worth rising before the sun.
You know how every year you mean
to go out to Sconset in June to see the roses?
Well, this is the last day of June, so go!
They’re peeking over rooftops.
and climbing walls.
Lining the beach as the sun rises.
Even the tiniest yards are packed with floral glory.
The foxglove does her part.
The Chanticleer‘s roses can’t be appreciated
in just a glimpse.
So maybe stay for lunch.