Tag Archives: Washington DC

R is for Recovery #AtoZChallenge

Recovery is all over The Mud of the Place. Protagonist Shannon is an alcoholic with a pretty well established recovery — she’d be the first to say “recovering,” not “recovered,” and to emphasize that she’s gotten this far one day … Continue reading

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P is for Poetry #AtoZChallenge

“I came to work on my novel.” It was a total cliché at the time — everyone, it seemed, came to Martha’s Vineyard to work on a novel. A few years later it was a screenplay they were working on, but … Continue reading

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L is for Lesbian #AtoZChallenge

WARNING: The first several paragraphs of this post rely heavily on “Gay on MV,” a personal history that I posted here in June 2015. This post, in keeping with my theme for the A to Z Challenge, focuses more on … Continue reading

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Prayer Vigil

Sometimes I get sucked into the not-uncommon belief that whatever unfolds on Martha’s Vineyard is not real life. I don’t lock my home either when I’m in it or when I’m out. My car keys are always in the ignition … Continue reading

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3 Quotes, 3 Days: Day 2

For more about the 3 Quotes, 3 Days challenge, see Day 1. When I came to Martha’s Vineyard in 1985, part of me thought I was taking a year off to work on a novel. I never finished that novel, … Continue reading

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January License Plate Report

Usually I get at least 20 states in January, almost half the total. This year? Hah. The tally when the month ran out was a whopping 13, a scant quarter of the 51 I’m looking for. (Because I lived in … Continue reading

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Season of the Risk

Fall on Martha’s Vineyard: The days grow shorter, the leaves turn — and deer ticks make a comeback. Ticks are part of the seasonal cycle here. The big ones, called dog ticks or wood ticks, are much in evidence from … Continue reading

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Out of Sight? Not Quite

I lived in Washington, D.C., for 11 years and loved it. All those years I hardly ever thought about where my drinking water came from or where my trash or sewage went. All that changed after I landed on Martha’s … Continue reading

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Faith

The other day word went round that a friend’s sign had been stolen from its accustomed place at the end of his road. This wasn’t just any sign: it’s unique, hand-crafted and -painted, and big enough to be legible from … Continue reading

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The Key Sestina

This poem came back to me while I was writing yesterday’s blog. When I lived in D.C., my keys wore holes in the hip pocket of my jeans. On Martha’s Vineyard I carried no keys at all. This might have … Continue reading

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