To the Truck from the Ferry, August Nighttime.


If you want to start a conversation around here, you can set one off by saying “August.”

It’s crowded here in August. The amount of hurry, even desperation, that some of these people from Away can put into their vacations! Schedules are full.

So are the ferries.

Last Thursday night I took the five o’clock ferry to Woods Hole, to meet with family and a friend for a supper rendezvous. Since I had to make and finish a sign for the dedication of the new door at the church by the coming Sunday, I returned to the Vineyard after we ate.


Passengers twist and turn down the debarkation ramps, ferry dock, Vineyard Haven, MA.

It took seven minutes to get off the boat and to reach Main Street.


Which had nothing to do with my having camera in hand, did it?

Or with meeting a fine feline?


A strange attractor crossed my path, halfway up Union Street.

At the corner of Main was a nice, angly, second-story detail.


Almost every single one of the shingles you see here had to be individually hand-cut and fitted into place.

I’d parked just out of town, up near the Catholic Church, so turned off Main Street and headed up-hill.

And soon, just a few hundred feet from Main Street, all was quiet.


Front door. Church Street, Vineyard Haven.








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