Sandy Passes On

Posted on October 30, 2012 by Susanna J. Sturgis

On Sandy morning, the bike path was a ribbon of pine needles.

Not being a TV watcher, I didn’t know if Sandy was a boy or a girl. Was Sandy short for Alexander or Alexandra, or was this Sandy named for his or her red hair?

At the school, the buses were all moved forward, away from the trees.

Yesterday was Sandy Day. Schools were closed and life-as-usual put on hold. While the trees around my apartment waved and swirled, I watched for the photos posted to Facebook by friends and friends of friends: photos of flooded Five Corners, flooded Edgartown, surf crashing over Beach Road and South Beach. The awesome power of the natural world.

Exactly 21 years ago, the No-Name Nor’easter of 1991 flooded Five Corners. The Martha’s Vineyard Times, for which I was working at the time, was about to move into the spiffy new offices that it occupies today. The move was delayed while the newly laid floor recovered from its drenching.

Vulnerability

1991 was a stormy year. Hurricane Bob arrived in mid-August, when the island was jammed with summer people and tourists. Bob, like last year’s Irene and this year’s Sandy, was a dry storm. The salt-blasted August foliage turned brown almost overnight. Areas once thickly wooded were suddenly wide open. Lilacs and forsythia bloomed in September. The house I was living in lost power for nine days. We got water from the fire station on the Edgartown Road.

All day yesterday I expected the power to go out. It flickered several times but kept coming back. Finally around 3 p.m. it flickered, died, and didn’t come back. Deprived of storm photos and stories, I entered several months of credit card statements into Quicken while my laptop’s battery dwindled. Around 4, Travvy and I set out for a walk under the swirling trees. The outside lights were on at the West Tisbury School. They must have a generator, I thought — but why would they be wasting generator power when school was closed?

Sandy muted the colors and felled the leaves, but red survives.

Closer to home, I spotted a light on in a neighbor’s house. Huh? At the next neighbor’s, there were even more lights, and my closest neighbor’s house was, as the saying goes, lit up like a Christmas tree. My neighbor was out in the yard. “The power’s back already?” I called. “What kind of storm is this?”

He’d been making the rounds inviting the neighbors over to eat up his homemade ice cream before it melted. It wasn’t going to melt, but he said come on over anyway after I’d had supper. Which I did.

This morning Travvy and I checked the neighborhood for damage. Plenty of twigs and small branches littered our route, but only two trees were down, both on footpaths. At 11 a.m. I had a dentist appointment near Five Corners. Apart from some rather large puddles, the roads in Vineyard Haven were back to normal.

New Englanders like to say “If you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes.” It seems denizens of every other region say exactly the same thing, and I’m guessing that for them, as for us, this is usually an exaggeration. Not today. When Trav and I set out for our morning walk, it was overcast. A few minutes later it started raining. The rain stopped. Blue sky appeared overhead. While I made my breakfast, the clouds rolled in again. While I was at the dentist’s, the sky out the window was idyllic blue with a few drifty white clouds.

This afternoon it clouded over again. As sundown approached, thunder rumbled in the distance then got louder. The rain started gentle, then came down torrential, then stopped.

Sandy seems to have moved on. Like Irene, s/he let us off easy. New York City and New Jersey weren’t so lucky.

It’s hard to take a picture of the wind.

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Colors of Late October

Posted on October 26, 2012 by Susanna J. Sturgis

This afternoon I was taking a break out on the deck, reading yesterday’s paper. Travvy thought it was suppertime. From the slant of the light, I thought he might be right.

Nope: it was barely 3:30. He eats at 4:30. The days are getting shorter. It feels later earlier. I wake up with the light, and these days I’m not getting out of bed till 7 or so. I’ll be glad when “fall back” makes the sun rise earlier, but pitch-dark at 5 is always a shock.

The photos I posted in “Early Fall Color” were taken at the very beginning of the month. Since then the woods have been turning ever more russet. There’s still plenty of green out there, but late October light catches the brown and turns it brandy golden.

Trav and I have several different routes, but our morning walks cover pretty much the same ground. Here’s what it looked like earlier this week.

Heading out down Pine Hill

The mid-fall reds are really spectacular, thanks in large part to the winged sumac. Here’s what it looks like close up. Oh for a pair of boots in just this color!

Along Old County Road

Gray and white and red all over

Across Old County from the West Tisbury School

 

These black-eyed susans are what prompted me to start packing my camera again. When your name is Susanna and you have brown eyes, people think black-eyed susans must be your totem flower. Their real name is brown-eyed susannas, but the field guides don’t know it yet.

 

 

Field path with fuzzy butt

Here we’re almost home. The color doesn’t let up. That’s my neighbors’ house, with the burning bush in the foreground.

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Drafty Site Planning

Posted on October 21, 2012 by Susanna J. Sturgis

On the agenda for last Thursday’s Martha’s Vineyard Commission (MVC) meeting was a public hearing on the MVC’s draft policy on site design and landscape. The policy aims to “[give] guidance to applicants seeking approval of a Development of Regional Impact (DRI).” If I get elected to the MVC, I’ll have an awful lot to learn, so I figured I’d better start now, just in case. I read an online copy of the draft and went.

The draft policy runs to almost 30 pages. I thought it was unwieldy. Several of the commissioners thought likewise. One said, “This isn’t a policy” and added that “for a policy it’s overkill.” Another said it was “too big.” A third found it “intimidating.” Back to the drawing board, they agreed. They decided to continue the public hearing at the MVC’s next meeting, on November 1, before which time a revised draft will be available on the website.

Two particular things struck me about the draft policy. One is that it juxtaposes environmental criteria with purely aesthetic concerns as if they all deserve equal weight. Minimizing the visual impact of parking lots, it seems, is as significant as providing for stormwater management. Specifying the sort of fences that can face public ways deserves as much attention as discouraging the use of invasive plants in landscaping. Carried to its illogical extremes, this results in the kind of capricious silliness in which regulating bodies specify what font can be used in a sign or what color in a building’s trim. Such silliness is not uncommon around here. Applicants often feel, quite justifiably, that they are being nickel-and-dimed to death, and the worst excesses keep the humor mill giggling for years.

If the MVC approved this, how can it reject anything?

The other thing is that when it comes to the infamous roundabout (you knew I was going to get there, right?),  the MVC ignored just about all the concerns and recommendations in this draft policy. Reading the draft kindled long-banked fires and pretty soon smoke was coming out of my ears.

Rather than go through the whole long draft policy line by line (there are 922 lines, more or less, and nearly all have words on them), I’ll just quote the overall goal, which appears on page 5:

The goal of this policy is to ensure that the site design, landscaping, and lighting of development projects fit into their surrounding context, particularly the cultural and historical built environment, and in rural areas, the natural systems.

Of course the MVC collectively didn’t even consider the roundabout a DRI (development of regional impact) until the town of West Tisbury made a discretionary referral in the spring of 2011. (The project had been cooking since around 2003.) Oops.

Some think the roundabout is a done deal. I disagree. But even if the damn thing is built, and even if it turns out to be mankind’s greatest landscaping triumph since Central Park, the blatant inconsistency will live on, poisoning the relationship between Vineyarders and the MVC, which is supposed to be protecting our home and our interests. Why, DRI applicants will sensibly ask, are we being nickel-and-dimed by guidelines that MassDOT and the Oak Bluffs board of selectmen were allowed to blow off?

Good question.

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On the Ballot II

Posted on October 19, 2012 by Susanna J. Sturgis

I’m looking at a copy of the general election ballot. My name’s on it. See?

Given the hoops I’ve managed to first locate and then jump through, bitching most of the way, this should not be all that surprising. Still — my name’s on the election ballot.

Other than that it looks like any other Massachusetts ballot, customized by district and locality. The left column is topped by “Electors of President and Vice President.” The candidates themselves are only identified by surname: Johnson and Gray, Obama and Biden, Romney and Ryan, Stein and Honkala.

In every subsequent block, names are given in full, and incumbents (“Candidates for re-election”) are listed first, in alphabetical order.

I’m not wild about this. How about alphabetizing the incumbents with everybody else, and including “Candidate for re-election” in the same teeny tiny size it’s in now?

I’d be lucky number 13 no matter which way they did it.

What really bugs me, though, is that it’s not explained how the MVC voting works. The MVC has nine elected members, all elected at the same time to two-year terms. So up at the top it says “Vote for not more than NINE.” What it doesn’t say is that each town must have at least one elected commissioner and no town can have more than two, so if you vote for three candidates from the same town, you’re throwing a vote away. Voters need to know this.

There are three candidates running from Tisbury, three from Oak Bluffs, three from Edgartown, and three from West Tisbury (that’s my town). One of each trio isn’t going to get elected, no matter how many total votes they get. The third-highest finisher from West Tisbury might edge out the second-highest finisher from Edgartown, but the Edgartonian will probably be elected and the West Tisburyite definitely won’t.

Pay attention to where the candidates live. It’s in teeny tiny type, but it’s there. Don’t vote for more than two candidates from any one town. If you want, you can vote for just one from a particular town — or none. And you can vote for fewer than nine in total if you like.

And yes, I’d be quite happy if you voted for me. My name is Susanna J. Sturgis and I approved this blog post.

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Meet Mr. January

Posted on October 16, 2012 by Susanna J. Sturgis

Last April I got a call from photographer Lisa Bibko-Vanderhoop. I didn’t know Lisa, but I did know that she produces the Vineyard Seadogs calendar. Turns out that was what she wanted to talk about. She’d been wanting a northern-breed dog to include in the calendar, and she’d heard from Kerry Scott, proprietor of Good Dog Goods in Oak Bluffs, that I had an Alaskan malamute. Would he be willing to be photographed?

I didn’t have to ask.

The so-called “supermoon” was coming up: the May 4 full moon would be closer to Earth than any other full moon of the year. Wouldn’t Travvy’s wolf-like profile look great against a big, bright full moon? Yes, it would — but the challenges of lighting and weather scuttled that idea.

Instead we met at Owen Park, on Vineyard Haven harbor, late in the afternoon. I had my apprehensions: for Trav, the harbor was a brand-new place, full of unfamiliar smells and shells and, even in early May, plenty of human, canine, and avian activity. Would he be too distracted to focus on the task at hand? Not to worry: Trav was a trouper.

Mr. January

Not long afterward, Lisa emailed me the photo and said that Travvy was going to be Mr. January in the 2013 Vineyard Seadogs calendar. I was thrilled. Trav and I told all our friends, then settled down to wait impatiently till the calendar was available.

It’s finally here! You can preview the images on Lisa’s website. Lisa is an excellent photographer, and Martha’s Vineyard is nothing if not photogenic, but it’s a rare Vineyard scene that can’t be improved by the presence of a dog.

Or several dogs.

Contrary to popular belief, there’s more to Vineyard dogdom than Labrador retrievers. The new year’s Seadogs include a mastiff with (at least) eight mastiff-pit bull mix puppies; four papillons; an Irish wolfhound towering over a Weimaraner puppy; two German shepherds playing in the surf off the Gay Head Cliffs; and a schnauzer. Yes, there is a Lab, and a couple of goldens too.

Amos, Mr. October

Mr. October is the late Amos, Lisa’s Weimaraner, who inspired the first Vineyard Seadogs calendar seven years ago.

The calendar can be ordered on the website for US$16 plus shipping and handling (which is calculated based on your shipping address). Pay by PayPal or any major credit card.

If you’re on the island, it’s available at Bunch of Grapes Bookstore, Edgartown Books, Good Dog Goods, Rainy Day, Alley’s, Cronig’s, Craftworks, SBS, Rosecuts, Two Susans, Tisbury Farm Market, and Trader Fred’s.

Lisa’s always on the lookout for future Vineyard Seadogs. If you know of one, let her know! She also welcomes orders by e-mail.

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Camp N Packin’

Posted on October 14, 2012 by Susanna J. Sturgis

Getting off-island on a holiday weekend is all good, and when you’re going to Camp N Pack it’s even better.

This is last weekend we’re talking about, Columbus Day weekend, the real end of “the season” and the time when we start seriously battening down the hatches for winter.

A typical cabin

Camp N Pack is an annual event put on by AMRONE, Alaskan Malamute Rescue of New England. 2012 marked Camp N Pack’s 15th anniversary; it was Trav’s and my 3rd. We plan to keep going back as long as it, and we, exist.

Imagine, if you will, dozens and dozens of people accompanied by dozens and dozens of dogs, most but by no means all of them malamutes. We take over an off-season Girl Scout camp called Timber Trails and live, people and dogs together, in tents, campers, and rustic, uninsulated cabins, most of which have no electricity. Each area of several cabins has a “bathroom.” Each bathroom comprises four lavatories and two rows of sinks en plein air with cold running water. Showers are possible. There’s a trick, I hear, to keep the hot water on more than a couple of minutes. In cool October one can usually survive several days without a shower, so I haven’t taken advantage yet.

Camp N Pack HQ

Meals and indoor activities take place in the main building, which does have electricity. Outdoor activities take place all over camp. Summer’s riding rings become the Rally obedience ring, the agility ring, and the Playpen, where the post-and-rail fence is reinforced with snow fencing so dogs can run around off-leash. Camp Timber Trails encompasses 1,137 acres, so there are many trails and dirt roads to explore, not to mention Ward’s Pond, a gorgeous woodland lake.

Ward’s Pond

Camp runs hostel-style: Campers sign up to help with prepping, serving, and cleaning up after meals, and for all the chores that need to be done at the end of the weekend. (The dogs are exempt from such duties.) The cooks volunteer their time. So the weekend costs a big $60 per person, including meals. This being a holiday weekend, we had the option of staying an extra day for $20. Trav and I happily stayed over and drove home on Monday.

This is a benefit for AMRONE, however, so there are plenty of fun ways to spend the money you save on food and housing: a silent auction, a raffle, the AMRONE “store” (T-shirts, sweatshirts, fleece vests, and miscellaneous dog stuff), and the live auction.

We practice on the A-frame in the agility ring. Photo by Threepairs Photography.

Oh yeah, and Barry and Moses from Threepairs Photography roam through camp taking pictures. These are shown in a continuous slide show on their two laptops in the main building, and you can buy any prints you want at drop-dead reasonable prices — with all proceeds going to AMRONE. This is where some of my best Travvy photos come from, notably the ones that have both Travvy and me in them. I came home with five great new photos, not to mention six jars of homemade salsa, a pint of Vermont maple syrup, two kinds of dog treats, and a hand-knitted sweater with a big malamute face on the front.

My first Camp N Pack, in 2010, I didn’t know anybody. I’m not exactly shy, but I’ve got your basic New England reserve and introducing myself to total strangers is pretty close to hell in my book. But at Camp N Pack meeting people is easy. You’re sharing a cabin, or helping out in the kitchen together. No one minds at supper or breakfast if you plunk yourself down in an unoccupied chair and start contributing to the conversation.

Trav looks up to me as long as he’s not standing on his hind legs. Photo by Threepairs Photography.

And the dogs make cousins of us all. We may have nothing else in common, but we’ve got dogs, and many of us have this weird affinity for northern breed dogs in general and Alaskan malamutes in particular. That, it turns out, is a lot. When you talk about dogs, you’re really talking about “life, the universe, and everything,” and when you see people who met for the first time two days ago pitching in together to help make Camp N Pack happen — well, what else do you really need to know about a person, and what else do they really need to know about you?

This is not exactly rocket science, but it being election season across the US of A, we’re being bombarded with the assumption that the world divides neatly and irrevocably into red and blue, Democrat and Republican, right and left, liberal and conservative, people who support President Obama and people who support former (Massachusetts) governor Romney. As I drove north from Woods Hole, Elizabeth Warren’s lawn signs outnumbered Scott Brown’s about three to one. At the other end of the state, as I drove the 20 miles from Southwick to very rural Tolland (which isn’t far from the Connecticut line), I saw exactly one sign for Warren and probably 10 for Brown. Brown’s signs noticeably outnumbered Romney’s, and Nick Boldyga, running for re-election as the state rep from the 3rd Hampden district, probably had more signs out there than all the rest put together.

On Sunday afternoon, the parking area became the site of the weight pull. Travvy doesn’t know it, but he might be a competitor next year.

At Camp N Pack, however, we were in a whole other world. There were no TVs in sight, no political ads or debates or endless commentary about debates or speculation about poll results. I didn’t even bring my laptop.

I have no idea who anyone I hung out with is planning to vote for. Unless they connected me to Malvina Forester, who has a Warren sticker on her bumper but spent the weekend up the road in the parking area, they don’t know much about my politics either.

Our various conversations ranged widely, and though dogs, dog training, dog sports, and rescue figured prominently, we talked and laughed about plenty of other stuff too. The common denominator, if there was one, was that nearly all of the talk was about things we knew first- or at most secondhand. It wasn’t predigested and fed to us by some anonymous mass medium. We all had dogs in common, and a willingness to get along. And we got along fine.

It’s startling, sobering, and all in all encouraging to realize how little the partisan hullabaloo has to surface in day-to-day life. All the same, I have a hunch that the introduction of TV news or lawn signs or other political paraphernalia would have been like tossing a match into a pile of dry tinder. The potential for conflagration was there, it’s there in any large diverse group of people, but it can usually be avoided — if everyone leaves their matches at home and maybe packs a fire extinguisher just in case.

A rushing brook at Camp Timber Trails

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Early Fall Color

Posted on October 10, 2012 by Susanna J. Sturgis

When it comes to fall foliage, tall trees get all the attention. Hereabouts the brightest colors are often closer to the ground. I took these photos early last week on Travvy’s and my morning walk. The colors have faded some since then — or maybe it’s that with the sky overcast they don’t catch the light in the same way? (Don’t ask why it’s taken me over a week to post this. First it was deadlines, then Trav and I went off-island for the weekend — more about that later — and then it was another deadline.)

Burning bush

Chicken of the woods

As we head out down the driveway, the burning bush above sends us on our way.

Most of the local color is subtle — this is New England, after all. Not so this mushroom at the end of the driveway. After posting it on Facebook, I learned that it’s a chicken of the woods and that it’s edible, as long as it’s not growing on a eucalyptus. We don’t have eucalyptus on Martha’s Vineyard: this beauty was growing out of an oak stump.

Unfortunately it is no more. My neighbor was out stumping over the weekend and the mushroom got stumped in the process, much to the dismay of his wife, who was planning to cook it when it got a little bigger.

Our morning walk has several variations, but all of them take us along at least one side of the big field near Misty Meadows.

A landmark for all who walk this way. Yes, the arrow does point to a dog’s water bowl and faucet at the edge of the householders’ lawn. Our walks rarely take more than an hour, and they’re never in the heat of the day, so we don’t take advantage of the watering hole — but I’m glad to know it’s there. When the householders are out gardening or doing yardwork or sitting on their patio, we call greetings to them from the trail.

One edge of the meadow runs parallel to Old County Road.

Goldenrod (I think)

When it comes to identifying wildflowers, I’m pretty hopeless. I’ve been saying for at least 25 years that I’m going to get myself a field guide and learn the names of the wildflowers I see every year. So far I haven’t done it.

Little white daisy-looking flowers — some kind of aster? (Yes, says Tom H. Thank you!)

 

 

 

The World Wide Web is great for some things. If you know the name of something, you can find out what it looks like. If you know what it looks like, however, learning its name is a challenge. If it’s possible, I haven’t figured out how to do it. Is there an interactive website out there where I can type in “little white daisy-looking flowers on Martha’s Vineyard” and get a few possibilities to look at? (A few hours later: Just learned that Google Images may be able to help here.)

If I were a carpet weaver or a painter, I’d go nuts trying to recreate these colors and textures. Two Pembroke Welsh corgis live in that house back there. When they’re outside, they bark at Travvy. Travvy woos back at them. Next door is a black standard poodle who barks wildly as soon as she spots us and keeps barking long after we’re out of sight.

Poison ivy

You bet I know what that is! Poison ivy is one of the most gorgeous plants in the autumn woods.

Big yellow milkweed leaves

 

 

 

 

Not sure what these are either, though the milkweed’s leaves look similar, albeit smaller. (Milkweed it is. Thanks again, Tom!) When it catches the sun, their yellow is startling across a meadow of weathered green.

Another view from the path along the meadow

Dog on the rock

Right: Now we’re back in our driveway. Trav has already had his breakfast. Now it’s time for me to get mine: black tea and slow-cooking oatmeal.

The glacier probably brought that rock to Martha’s Vineyard, but not to its current location. I share a driveway with my neighbor/landlords. (More accurately, they share it with me.) We can go out the back way, via Pine Hill, and emerge by the West Tisbury dump: this is a handy shortcut to State Road, the West Tiz post office, and up-island Cronig’s market. Or we can take Halcyon Way to Old County Road. Persons unknown and unauthorized were using the driveway to make their own shortcuts — which would have been OK, except that coming from either direction an SUV or pickup needs to make a seven- or nine-point turn to get around the trees. This was mildly annoying, especially at night when the intruders have their headlights on. So the rock was deposited to make the maneuver even harder. I’m not sure it’s all that effective, but Travvy likes it.

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September License Plate Report

Posted on October 2, 2012 by Susanna J. Sturgis

This report is late because there is nothing to report. Boo hiss. Two consecutive months with no new sightings, and it sure isn’t because there were few cars on Vineyard roads in August and September.

I guess I really don’t get out enough.

OTOH, maybe that’s not it. On my off-island trip in mid-September, I saw very few even mildly exotic plates, and none of the ones on my “missing” list. (For the record, that would be Montana, North and South Dakota, Nebraska, New Mexico, Mississippi, and Hawaii.) If you can’t find them on 495, how likely is it that they’ll turn up on Old County Road or Circuit Ave.?

Well, hope springs eternal, so I’ll keep my eyes open.

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SJS 4 MVC on FB

Posted on September 30, 2012 by Susanna J. Sturgis

My campaign for the MVC is now legit: it’s got its own Facebook page. Travvy is my campaign manager.

If you’re not on Facebook, you probably can’t see it (if you aren’t but you can, let me know!). Here’s what it looks like. If you are on FB, come visit!

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Nothing Happening

Posted on September 30, 2012 by Susanna J. Sturgis

Lee Mccormack, MV poet laureate.

A while back (was it already a month ago??), I expressed some reservations about “laureation,” specifically the proliferation of poets laureate on Martha’s Vineyard. Lee Mccormack had just given his inaugural reading as Martha’s Vineyard’s first poet laureate. Lee is a very fine poet, but wasn’t all this laureation hoop-de-do a sign of poetry’s irrelevance on the island rather than its vitality?

“Where will it all go from here?” I asked. “Will poetry become more visible in the island’s public life? Will more people be reading, listening to, and maybe even writing, poetry? That remains to be seen.”

The verdict is still out on that one, but it’s become clear in the weeks since that Lee isn’t resting on, or hiding behind, his laureation. Early in the month (IIRC), he circulated this poster on Facebook and proclaimed Thursday, September 27, “The Nothing Happening Day.” The proclamation read, in part:

This is the day when nothing happens, all day, for 24 hours. Nothing can happen at any time during the day, or all day long. It is entirely up to you how you choose to use this marvelous opportunity to make or let nothing happen.

It is a great day to be reminded of a time when nothing happened in your life, and then later, nothing else happened again.

When nothing is happening, it offers us all a fabulous opportunity to let it happen, so later we may be reminded of a time when nothing happened, and then, later, when nothing else happened again.

During this fabulous event, we may lounge around indolently or bury ourselves in busy work, but regardless of how we choose to spend our time, it is an excellent day for nothing to happen.

Response was immediate. Some immediately embraced the day to come. Others were uneasy: Nothing Happening was confused with Doing Nothing, and this caused concern among those with real-world responsibilities and inflexible schedules. Still others posted photos and links to songs and meditations about Nothing. Islanders and off-islanders previously unaware of each other’s existence gathered to play with Nothing.

Posted to celebrate Nothing Happening Day. The missing T is Nothing to worry about.

On Nothing Happening Day a friend came over to help me make bread. She had never made bread before but turned out to be an excellent kneader. The sourdough did its thing and rising happened: Nothing to it.

In late afternoon I went to the community sing at the charter school. Nothing happened there either, but it sounded good and was really fun.

It was noted, by someone who knows, that Martha’s Vineyard is popularly thought to be a place where Nothing Happens, especially in the off-season, into which we are now sailing. This is true. Nothing Happens on Martha’s Vineyard in the off-season, so the thinking goes, because No One is here to do it. We aren’t going to set them straight.

It was also noted, by several different attendees, that dogs are past masters at Nothing Happening. This is also true. Pictures were posted to prove it. Most of what I know about Nothing Happening I learned from Travvy and his predecessor, the late Rhodry Malamutt. Travvy got the spirit long before the day started and it hasn’t departed yet.

Trav rarely worries about Nothing Happening.

Neither did Rhodry. Note the resemblance? Ca. 1999–2000.

 

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