From the April 19, 1985 edition by Richard Reston:
There are seldom times I do not mourn the sea/And all the descending memories darkening below/The wheeling of seabirds in the wake is one/On 32 South...
From every quarter comes the question: “What is the world coming to?”; and particularly when the word comes of wholesale disaster.
There’s a decided air of neglect about the Martha’s Vineyard Airport that has nothing to do with the Island’s casual vibe.
Good fences make good neighbors, the old adage goes, but surely flowers along fence lines are among the prettiest sights.
Two years ago I wrote a Gazette column about the boxes in my basement — or to be more precise (and pathetic), the boxes in our basements.
Every year I say the same thing to my husband, “I’d love to take a vacation . . . on Martha’s Vineyard.”
• Beautiful New Drawbridge Editors, Vineyard Gazette:
As anyone knows, the population of skunks is a continuing noxious menace.
All the discussion about Tashmoo eelgrass, all the meetings and formation of an eelgrass committee, was a waste of time.