Category Archives: sconset

#619: Milestone in the mist

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.

Contemplating beauty,
 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.

#618: Go to Sconset, now. The roses are in bloom.

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.

#535: Summer Solitude

There was a bit of craziness here Memorial Day weekend.
Lots of folk visiting, lots of alcohol.
Some locals have begun the ‘longing for winter quiet’ already.
Not me, solitude can always be found,
if you get up early enough,
or go out to the moors.
Sankaty bluff, toward Milestone Road
Sankaty Light on the right,
  golf cart on the left.

Main Street at 6 am

Pacific Bank peeking out,
its flanking elms gone.

Pacific Club, 
at the other end of Main Street.
My son, a mason, tells me they found 
 old trompe l’oeil on the ceiling
while working on it.
I’ll post pictures when I get them from him.

The harbor, at rest.

Sconset’s always good for a walk,
a clear head,
an open ear to hear God’s voice.

#523: Sconset Storms

Along the shore there are always changes.
Sconset’s Gully Road is a case in point:

there used to be houses on the right side of the road.

The swingset has been moved back.
Various methods to keep the sea at bay have been tried.

Still, the waves roll in, all the way from Spain.
Bringing all sorts of beachcomber fancy.

We can only watch, and wonder.

#501: Nantucket’s Hobbit Houses

OK, not really hobbit houses
but sooooo close.
in Sconset.
Lace curtains,
properly starched and ironed.

Rooster jail.
I have known some roosters who needed to be jailed.

Bath house, where’s the soaking tub?

Table set for four.

Do come in, the gate is always open.

Nantucket’s version of Bagshot Row.

Pan is not pleased.
This is not his kind of weather.

Roses aren’t blooming,
the Gray Lady shows her true colors.
(click on the name to peek inside)

Ivy’s still green.

And the door is rose…
Hang in there, spring will come.

The angel still blesses,
even in the snow.

#419: Chanticleer vs. homecooking

Behind this nightmare-inducing horse,
is our go-to restaurant for the
Big Occasion,
the Chanticleer.
This is their idea of an hors-d’oevre:
Fisher Beer Battered Cod Beignet
with Roasted Red Pepper Aioli and Chervil.
This is mine: 
celery with cream cheese.
Here’s their idea of dinner:
Grilled Scottish Salmon with
Basil-Macadamia Pesto,
Asparagus Risotto and Clementine Hollandaise.
Here’s mine:
‘Oh my gosh, is it 7:30 already?
Your dad’s gonna be home any minute.
Is there anything in the garden we could make?
How about eggs in the henhouse?
Hmmm, potatoes, zucchini, eggs…
how about a frittata?’
Their dessert:
Blackberry Sorbet with 
Wild Blueberry and Ginger Conserva
and Sesame Sugar Cookies.
My kids get popsicles.
Their bathroom.
No, I’m not showing you a picture of mine.
Some pictures are not for showing.
To the Chanticleer.
And a three-hour dinner with 
David’s sister and her husband.
It was wonderful.

#368: The Improbable Forest

There’s a pine forest in ‘Sconset
at the bottom of these stairs:
One would expect to see something 
more like this:
Which is what you do see if you look to the left.
But instead:
Perfectly healthy pines growing on the beach.
It boggles the mind.
What makes it possible for trees to survive
in sand, storm, and salt spray?
It is the glory of God to conceal a matter;
 to search out a matter is the glory of kings. Proverbs 25:2

And the joy of beachcombers who say, hmmmm.

#360: Bartlett’s Farm Parking Lot

Bartlett’s Farm parking lot, Saturday, March 3rd, 4 pm:
 Quiet. Still.
 No cars, no picnickers, no children
The windmill stands sentry.
Waiting for summer

#336: Sconset Sleeps

Sconset is sleepy anyway.
An outpost on the east end of the island,
she’s known for being laid back and quiet.
Her only market is closed for the winter.
She’s quiet but ready.
Ready for carloads of kids and dogs
 to reclaim their favorite spots.
Ready to refill the flowerpots 
with petunias and tomato plants from Bartlett’s Farm.
Ready to renew the battle against erosion.
Ready to load up the Jeep for a beach picnic or
fishing trip to Great Point.
Sleeping, ready to wake.

#219: Sermon Haiku 13: John 19, Psalm 37

In the space between
Heaven’s silence, heaven’s shout
I wait, impatient.
Jesus lived there too:
‘Why have You forsaken me?’
Then, ‘It is finished.’
Crucified, pierced, dead
Darkness covered the land
All creation mourns.
Where is the Father?
In trouble, sorrow, grief, death?
Heaven’s silence hurts.
He speaks in the dawn
Jesus’ death was not the end
Sunday is coming.
What to do meanwhile?
Don’t fret. How? Trust God. Do good.
Delight in the Lord.
Turn over your cares
Roll them onto His shoulders
Be still, wait, God knows.
Sunday is coming.