A week of unrelenting heat and humidity gave way to drenching rains
over the weekend before we leave . . . but as we wait for the magical ferry,
the skies clear and steamy sunlight washes over our crossing to the island.
We have a new house this year, in the same general area up Longview,
in fact, just across the street from a former rental. But this is possibly the buggiest location
ever, which may be a product of the truly oppressive humidity. The house is also a compound – the master
bedroom is in a separate building over the garage, and you have to walk down
some stairs and across a little deck next to a nice garden to get to the
kitchen etc. It is all very clean
(aromatically so) but the ACs are running to beat the band so also kind of
cold. Also, it’s a property that is new
to the rental market so the owners are just figuring it out. It has all the pre-requisites: Martha’s Vineyard pillows in massive comfy
chairs, requisite blue-green color scheme, and a randomly-stocked bookshelf including
something by Suze Orman. Clearly someone
said you’d better have a puzzle and some games because there is a tiny pile in
the corner, but it is enough for us because we also come prepared with two
puzzles, Yahtzee, a deck of cards, and DICK.
The house is awash in clean sheets and towels although oddly lacking in
storage. And the windows and doors
either stick (because new metal frames) or are permanently swollen open or
shut. Well you know, summer
rental.
It was odd, I won’t deny it, arriving on the island with just Izzy.[1] While I’m so excited even just arriving at
the ferry to wait half an hour, and am out of the car as soon as we drive on
board, she’s sitting and reading a book.
(Of course, I’m delighted she’s reading but still . . . it’s the
FERRY!) Upon arrival we lumber over to
the Net Result for our ritual lunch where I am trying to figure out what growth
hormones they’ve been feeding the clams, or maybe it is just a lot of beer because
those bivalves were FAT. Almost too
much, too creamy, and, truth be told, a bit soggy on the bottom of the box
whence they’d been stuffed upon being fried.
Still, a big belly beats a strip any old day. It’s a little quieter being just us two
rather than our usual foursome. Not bad,
just different.
Still, we do our best to provision up (hello Cronig’s) and then spend
a sweaty hour unloading the car (did I mention the humidity). The West Tisbury Rec hut is its usual bustling
self (not) but at last, beach pass on car, we head down to Lambert’s Cove for a
pre-dinner dip. And we are happy
again.
[1] Peter wasn’t sprung from WLC until today, so Bill
went up to get him, while Izzy and I went to claim our island idyll.
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