Nantucket 2012—5
It’s 6:50 am, the waves are providing their timpani on the beach, yet everything else is still. The wind has departed which means the gulls will have to labor more to do their aerobatics. They are silenced for the moment.
In an hour hour I’ll drive down a dirt road through vegetation often up to the car windows to the general store over by the public beach. It must be 100 years old, but it carries the New York Times and Wall Street Journal (if there’s no fog and the early plane makes it in), as well as cigars, condiments, liquor, pastries, beach umbrellas, used books—a miniature Walmart. I won’t park too close because it appears a strong breeze—or three gulls on the roof—might knock it down. I imagine the woman who owns and runs it is a multi-millionaire.
We dined at the Club Car last night, an annual trip, and it was filled, though the streets weren’t. Contrary to popular belief, and an incompetent travel writer in the Times a couple of weeks ago, it’s easy to navigate the main town and find a parking space if it’s not a weekend and the car ferry isn’t in the midst of unloading. We go to church just a couple of blocks away—St. Mary, Our Lady of the Isle. The worst problem is the cobblestones which are uneven enough to lose a small dog in the crevices. I have to keep the car at its maximum height.
If the weather holds—and you never know here—it looks like another great beach day.
Looking north up the beach.
Looking south down the beach.
Alaina and Gabrielle building a pond for their rubber duckies.
© Alan Weiss 2012. All rights reserved.
