Paid Notice: Alice Ann Clifton, 94, passed away on January 13 in her home in Water Mill, surrounded by her loving family.  

Jonathan Shoemaker, a film and television producer, has left that world to start the Accabonac Theater Project, which will launch with three of his short plays set in Springs.

Long Island Restaurant Week is back, with South Fork options at Fresno, Nick and Toni's, LDV @ the Maidstone, the Palm, Bistro Ete, Calissa, Page, the Bridgehampton Inn, and Shippy's.

Gian Carlo Feleppa performs at Guild Hall, preserving artifacts on Shelter Island, Glam Jam and Mind Open shows at the Masonic Temple, poetry grant, and a garden pests workshop.

A membership initiative from Almond and L&W Market, wine master classes at Sparkling Pointe, and frozen takeout options from Loaves and Fishes.

The tide was high at Robin Hood’s Bay, waves licking the cobbled slipway, inching towards the village’s tumbling, smuggler-y streets. Boots swapped for sandals, I stood daringly close to the water’s edge, part hoping the steel-blue sea would engulf my sore but triumphant toes. I’d made it. Walked across northern England, coast to coast. All in, about 200 miles. Three national parks. Lakes, fells, dales, moors, some flat bits in between, market towns, valley-tucked villages, numerous pubs, plentiful pints.

Florida’s spring-fed rivers are quiet stunners — underground aquifers surfacing to form short, crystal-clear waterways that wind through the state’s interior. The best way to experience them is slowly, standing on a paddleboard, drifting where the water tells you to go.

First, let’s get the pronunciation right. It’s Domi-neek-ah, as in nothing to do with the Dominican Republic. Dominica, the birthplace of my parents, is a remote, wild, and hilly island, a cross between Costa Rica, Jurassic Park, and New Zealand, and where “Pirates of the Caribbean” was filmed. Packed with wonder, the following is merely an amuse-bouche of things to do and see on this appropriately nicknamed “nature island.”

Whistles blow, the station master, starched and spotless in white, nods at the guard, who waves a green flag, and off we go, rolling out of Hatton station in Sri Lanka’s tea-covered hills, where I had spent three glorious days. For $12, I got an AFC ticket — air-conditioned first class, which isn’t really first class, or even second for that matter. But, my reserved seat is comfortable, although the air-conditioning means the windows are sealed shut and foggy, obscuring the gorgeous views.

Dracula. Dracula. Dracula. Dracula. Now that’s out of the way, we can get to the real reasons why this central Romanian region, where the Carpathian Mountains dissolve into forested valleys, meadows, and medieval settlements, is a great place to visit.