Lucky

Little Things to Love, BookFest Countdown. Memorial Day

The sun rose at 5:12 this morning and will set at 8:01 this evening.

We are lucky.

It is Thursday, and I am cocooned inside, reading my book, cozy and warm while a cold rain pelts the windows and the branches of autumn olives bend in the wind. All the boats have been cancelled to the mainland, and even if they were running, I wouldn’t want to be on one. It is one of those ugly grey, wet spring days with the wind howling. It feels more like March than an island on the cusp of summer.

I think back to Sunday when I was sitting on my back deck, drinking coffee, listening to the birds and watching them flit from the feeder to the branches of the lilac bushes, chirping and calling out to one another. One day I’ll sit down, go online and find an app that identifies the calls of each and every songbird that frequents our space. But today – and most days –I’m just happy to be living in the moment of nature’s soundtrack these birds provide. It is the best part my day.

I grabbed a zip-up sweatshirt to ward off the early morning chill, and a baseball cap to shade my eyes from the sun that’s still at eye-level as it climbs from the horizon. Pots of yellow marguerite daisies, purple Johnny jump-ups, Durango marigolds in a host of hot colors, flats of pink geraniums, indigo lobelia and petunias are sitting on the deck, waiting to be planted. It is peaceful here.

I am lucky. We are lucky. Those of us who call Nantucket home and can enjoy mornings like this simply by walking out our front or back porch. I turn my face up to the sun and feel summer coming. Soon there will be beach days and mornings will be a bit more hurried.

The wind is blowing, but our yard is somewhat protected by tall, unruly hedges I planted 30 years ago and just allowed to grow wild. The umbrella, anchored in the round glass table I bought at Marine eons ago, threatens to lift up and fly away with every strong gust of wind. It’s happened before, like a scene from Mary Poppins, the umbrella elevating and sailing across the yard, finally coming to rest against the hedge, its ribs broken. Now I’m careful to take it down whenever a stiff breeze blows.

This weekend the people will arrive and change the tenor of the island. Tourists eager to experience all that Nantucket has to offer will be met silently by residents with equal parts welcome and trepidation as our island becomes overrun and no longer feels as if it is ours.

But we still have our private personal spaces where commerce doesn’t intrude and we can just be. We are the people who live here. People who call Nantucket home 12 months a year or six months or three months, or somewhere in-between. As much as the island has changed over the last 50 years, and as much as we may resent some of those transformations, there is still no place like Nantucket. Let us appreciate what we have.

The star of the landscape right now is the yellow Scotch Broom, blooming along roadsides all over the island. Sadly, much of it has been eradicated by construction over the past decade, especially on Old South Road where the Richmond development sits. But if you want to see it in all its glory, drive by the Old Mill where you’ll see a gorgeous display.

What I’m Reading Now

The Nantucket Book festival is just weeks away, June 12 – 16, and I’ve been reading some of the books by authors who will attend to determine who I want to hear speak.

“Memorial Days,” by Geraldine Brooks speaks to love, loss, grief and remembrance. I loved it. Brooks is a beautiful writer, and her novel “Horse,” was one of those books which you find yourself gifting to family and friends. Brooks was halfway through writing “Horse” when she lost her husband, Anthony Horowitz, a Pulitzer-Prize winning journalist and author. He dropped dead of a heart condition while he was traveling. I definitely want to hear her speak.

“Shred Sisters,” by Betsy Lerner was an absorbing read and a first novel by an author who was a literary agent. Annye Camera, who is on the book festival committee promoted it, so I went with her recommendation and was glad I did. I read it over a weekend.

I can’t say I’ve read all of Alice Hoffman’s books, but I’ve read many, and “The Dovekeepers,” was one of her most engaging. Her current work is “When we Flew Away: A Novel of Anne Frank,” which I’ve just started.

I’ve always been intrigued by Anne Frank’s story, from the time I saw a local production of “The Diary of Anne Frank,” back in the 1960’s. I had the opportunity to visit The Anne Frank House in Amsterdam in 2012 when our daughter was studying there, and it only furthered my interest.

Check this space in the coming weeks for more BookFest recommendations.

The Real Meaning of this Holiday

Lastly, this weekend we celebrate Memorial Day. We all love our holiday weekend cookouts with hot dogs and hamburgers on the grill while we listen to the Red Sox on the radio. Note: Saturday and Sunday they’re facing the Orioles at Fenway. But let’s not forget the real meaning of this day. Sacrifice.

Memorial Day was created to honor the men and women who gave their lives in service to our country. Most of those who died in combat in the last hundred years, died on foreign soil, defending the ideals of democracy the United States has always promoted.

Nantucket’s Memorial Day Parade will be on Sunday at 1 pm, starting from in front of the American Legion on Washington Street and wending its way through town to Prospect Hill cemetery for a memorial service. It’s always a moving scene.