There are very few twenty four hour periods I remember as clearly, or cherish as much as this one, on my initiation into an ever growing relationship with Martha’s Vineyard. And of course, “the island folk.”
If you’re curious, this is feeling the ocean on an overcast night (that’s a storm brewing on the mainland in the distance), smelling the bluffs on a crisp afternoon and getting acquainted with the ocean and its colored cliffs looks like on the island late October…once you get past the summer crowds, quietness soaks the land, and you can soak in the quietness (barefooted, and free).
wanderings + wonderings 
THANK YOU for this, another love we share. I grew up in an inner city in NJ, but my parents were originally from Massachusetts. Lucky for me (no, a Godsend) that my Dad’s best mate became my Uncle. He worked off Menemsha, Martha’s Vineyard in his traditional portuguese fishing boat “The Little Lady” (you can see her in “Jaws” and many artist’s renditions). Eventually, he bought land there, built his own home/farm (complete with a couple cows, goats, horses… veggies, etc) became Shellfish Warden. Everyone (local people, summer celebrities) knew and loved my Uncle (and Aunt, who loved crafts, pottery/ceramics, made goat cheese, etc), they were amazing people. I got to spend my summers there, a way to recoup from a year in the city, and see first hand what was really important in life. Even as a child I remember crying each time we took the ferry (or hitched a ride from some boat owner) to go back home. MV was my home. I miss her… and them.