I was lucky to run into Jonathan Jr. and Jack Belain the other day when I was trying to decide on a chrysanthemum to buy for the pot on our porch. There were so many colors: bright yellow, pale lavender, white, red, and russet. The boys had already chosen their pumpkins to carve that afternoon, and pots of chrysanthemums for their mom, Pam. We discussed the merits of each color, the sizes and shapes of every plant offered, and finally decided that a white with yellow center flower would be the perfect one. It is now beside our bright yellow door, and it does look perfect. Thank you both for your help.
Someone recently commented to me that the Vineyard fall isn’t as colorful as it is off-Island, that we don’t have the variety of trees, especially sugar maples, that range from yellow to orange to red in varying intensities. My response was, “Look down.” I find the most expansive colorings in our understory, marshes and fields. The grasses fade to softening yellow and beige. Poison ivy, rugosas, sheep laurel, and ferns all contribute to a colorful composition that spreads into the distance. You just have to look.
It all seems to be coming later this year. Our woods remain determinedly green, maybe a lightening in the intensity of that green, but still thick overhead. Oaks and beeches turn later anyway. The dogwood leaves are dark purple-red and dropping quickly. I will have to drive to Chilmark to admire beetlebungs, or just walk across Edgartown Road to Ruth Kirchmeier’s. She has one with widely spreading low branches that sweep the ground. That tree always seems to be inviting me to come inside, to nestle against its trunk and to look up to the sky through its foliage, a place for reflection.
I had watched Talley and Nan playing in the driveway the other day, then turning toward me, two white faces now 13 and 9 years old. I remembered that on Saturday afternoon when Mike and I were at the West Tisbury cemetery attending a graveside service for Julie Keefe. Most of our friends were there, many with their children and grandchildren. The collection of ourselves and our memories binds us. We are all growing older together, graying hair and ailments, joys and losses shared.
Julie’s children, Hannah, Joey, and Seb, are grown. They were lucky to know their mother as adults, and the warmth of their love and admiration for her was the special guest as they spoke about Julie.
On Thursday this week, tonight as you are reading this column, the town is invited to Joannie Jenkinson’s retirement party at the Ag Hall at 5 o’clock. It will be another of our occasions to come together, another piece of the tapestry of West Tisbury’s community life. I am happy that Joannie will have more free time, and happy to welcome Prudence Fisher as our new ACO. It will be a potluck, so bring something special to share along with your stories, and all of yourselves. Ourselves. Our town.