Cooler temperatures this past week have made life truly idyllic in “the Athens of the Island,” as Polly Murphy often referred to West Tisbury. I have had my doors and windows open. It is rejuvenating. We could use an inch or two of rain, but overall, no complaints. Even my mood is improved.
It’s been good weather for a second haying, which has been going on all the past week.
The “Come to the Fair” sign is out on the corner of State Road and the Panhandle. By the time you are reading this column, it will only be a week away. I am already bemoaning my August fate as a fair widow, as are other fire department wives. Preparing for the fair, getting the hamburger booth built and stocked, takes the first three weeks. Cooking burgers and hot dogs, running back and forth between the booth and the firehouse for ice and supplies, or parking cars is full-time during the actual four days of the fair. Then it all has to be cleaned up and stored away for next year. I remember when I was a new bride, joking about putting our photographs on the refrigerator so we would recognize one another in September.
This week’s Sunday New York Times has an article about the nematode that is killing our beech trees. Of course, I had to read it. Not hopeful for the future of beeches. They are my favorite trees, so grand and majestic. I have nurtured a sapling that Jean Wexler gave me maybe 25 or 30 years ago, that is on its way toward majestic. So is the copper beech at the end of our back lawn.
Beeches seem to sit doing nothing for their first years, then begin to grow and spread their branches in what one hopes is a never-ending expansion. I knew when I planted them that my beech trees would never in my lifetime look like the one in front of Eve Stone’s former house and antique shop on State Road, or the ones I love to sit beneath at Polly Hill. Still, they would continue long after me.
They would shelter my niece, Charlotte, when she walked around the yard, or looked out a window in some future time. She would someday sit beneath them and look at the sky through colored leaves and a thicket of branches. Maybe it would become her secret place.
Back to the New York Times article. It is called “Our Beech Tree Can Teach Us About the Possibility of the Future,” beautifully written by Elizabeth Rush. It’s in the Sunday Opinion section. Love, fidelity, and gratitude are all part of nurturing a tree.
I wonder what will happen if all of the Island’s beech trees die?
Views and biota do change. My mother-in-law used to reminisce about being able to see the ocean all the way up-Island when driving along South Road. Meadows left unattended will revert to scrub and eventually to woodlands. The woods surrounding our house are relatively young in a geological sense, though the trees seem tall and encompassing to me.
The Howes House’s annual cookout is Friday, August 11, at noon. Lunch is free, but you do need to sign up so they know how many diners to expect. Call 508-693-2896.
Lots of art to see in town this weekend. The library is hosting a reception for Leslie Baker on Saturday, August 12, 3 to 4:30 pm. Next door is the Field Gallery’s opening for Adam Thompson, Traeger di Pietro, and Judy Bramhall. Jeanne Staples, Cindy Kane, David Wallace, and Ross Coppelman are showing at the Granary through August 16. Allen Whiting and Mitch Gordon both exhibit their own work at their galleries.
The Perseid meteor shower will be at its peak the nights of August 12 and 13. Hard to imagine that tiny particles of rock from a comet could make such a spectacular display. Remember to go outside and be amazed.
