Back in the early years of the new millennium, Facebook was something we old, crunchy boomers only heard about dimly. It was some Internet something or other that had to do with lord knows what. It was as alien to us as love-ins, The Jefferson Airplane and peyote simmering on the stove were to our parents.

The first flood of invitations to join Facebook came as a big surprise to people of our generation. Why would we want or need this? And for those of us who had children, grown or not, we might have felt disposed to let them hold onto those things that are righteously theirs.

I really can’t stay. But baby, it’s cold outside! I’ve got to go 'way. But baby, it’s cold outside! So goes Frank Loesser’s famous duet of fireplace seduction. But some New Englanders feel they really can’t stay and have to go ’way precisely because, baby, it’s cold outside.

The mice were back. The other night I watched in peeved frustration as the scrabbling noise behind my tiny dorm-sized fridge grew louder until finally a little brown shape darted the three feet or so into the coat closet. There was another sound, more scrabbling, another dart. I counted three before I texted my friend. “My apartment is literally being invaded.” (I was pleased, in spite of it all, to for once use the word “literally” in its true sense). The apartment is a stand-alone studio, roughly 250 square feet.

Summer seems in the distant past as the New Year approaches, yet some of us are still thinking about the wildlife that frequents the Vineyard in the warm summer months. For the past two summers I wandered through the fields and forests of the Vineyard, planting the seeds for a study I would later conduct. The first phase of the study was launched during the summer of 2011 at Felix Neck Wildlife Sanctuary in Edgartown. The study set out to identify and assess the host plant selection process of Lepidoptera (butterflies and moths) on Martha’s Vineyard.

You probably want to know a little more about the hermit, Alfred. From the start I’ll tell you that it’s very hard for the islanders to talk about Alfred, although we all carry him on our conscience. On the day that Alfred died just about everyone on the island passed by his house and saw him waving from the window. Although most unusual, we all waved back and continued on our way.