Nature & Science
The moon hasn’t disappeared though you can’t find it after the dinner hour. It is merely a resident of the early morning sky this weekend. For those who rise early, the moon appears low in the southeast in the crescent phase.
Temperature: Precip.
Day Max. Min. Inches.
Fº Fº
Feb. 18 53 37 .00
Feb. 19 49 38 .00
Feb. 20 42 18 .00
Feb. 21 35 23 .04*
Feb. 22 33 16 .05*
Feb. 23 32 21 .00
Feb. 24 40 16 .00
*Melted Precipitation
On Feb.
Time to Walk Squibnocket
Down on the far southwest side of the Vineyard, Chilmark and Gay Head come together on the map in the form of what looks like a shadow puppet; a calf’s head comes to mind. Look closely, the image is possible. The ear, if you will, curves back around along Lobsterville beach towards Menemsha. At the base of this calf’s neck lies Squibnocket Point.
I have been living with an imposter.
After seven years, it was a bit of a shock. I was betrayed by a bulb. Not just any bulb: I thought that this was the one the perfect mate that would bloom year after year with a long, lanky stem and a large stunning flower that never disappoints.
I don’t even know what to call this phony flower, except a disruption to my household.
It rained recently and the snow and ice, for the moment, are nowhere to be seen. The grass is a bit forlorn, brownish and sagging under the weight of winter’s residue. But soon the Island will turn green again. And while that can foretell many things, it definitely means spring and summer camp are not far away.
The Farm Institute has just opened up their camp registration for all those young farmers who have been stuck in the house growling about the lack of cows and piggies in their lives.
Almanac
A comprehensive guide to weather and tides on the Island.
Vineyard Gardener
I guess this past week weather-wise is called a January thaw. We did not really experience it the last several years as December was unseasonably warm.
Farm & Field
Beige and brown and tan and black, with horns spiraled or semicircular or in undulating waves, a legion of goats marched up the hill toward us, bleating in anticipation of fresh grass and leaves.