If the Amish played more tennis, I feel quite certain that this is the way they would go about winterizing their courts.

Geoff Currier


Homeowners go solar on the Vineyard to save the planet and to save money. For Llewellyn Rogers, the priority was reducing his electric bill. In less than four months he saved more thna $1,000 on electricity costs.

Olivia Hull


I once had a friend who lived in an old farmhouse that had a five-foot blue racer snake living inside the walls. I asked him why he didn’t have it removed and he tersely replied: No mice.

Geoff Currier


Lately food trucks are all the rage but they’re hardly a new idea. Cowboys driving cattle in the 1800s had what were probably the first food trucks – they called them chuck wagons. In the 1890s lunch wagons did a good business catering to late-night workers. And of course mobile food trucks have been around for years, serving up food at construction sites.

Geoff Currier


Alex Friedman was getting antsy. Tuna season had opened the day before and he hadn’t gone out because it looked like there would be foul weather offshore. But now, as we sat in Oak Bluffs harbor onboard his thirty-five-foot H&H Downcast F/V, Dazed & Confused, the VHF radio was blurting out conversations between captains and aerial fish spotters who had gone out and apparently they were getting some action.

Geoff Currier


Three or four times a year, an excavator crawls out to the barrier beaches between some of our great ponds and the open ocean and makes incisions in the sand that open up floodgates. This is a diesel-powered version of a ritual that goes back to ancient times.

“We learned to breach ponds from the Native Americans,” explains Paul Bagnall, Edgartown shellfish constable. “Back in the old days they would do it by hand or they would use a sand scoop, which is sort of like a half of a bulldozer blade, pulled by an ox.”

Geoff Currier


Lungs tight from kicking up sawdust on a newly cleared trail, I searched my backpack for my inhaler. Weariness was written on my friends’ faces too. A dusty, panting dog lay in front of us, his head turning slowly to drink from a bowl of water. We had been hiking for sixteen miles – a journey that began halfway across the Island at Katama Point Preserve.

Alison L. Mead


I first met Albert back in the eighties. My then-future wife rented his house in Edgartown one summer and I used to bump into him from time to time. Albert was a little rough around the edges and a bit of a free thinker, but basically a straight-up guy.

Geoff Currier