Columnists

Time was that “Turtle Crossing” signs were seen here and there. I don’t know where they all went, but the turtles didn’t go away.

Running to “Blonde on Blonde” in its entirety.

Who shall we nominate for the emblematic animal sensation of summer 2024?

For Mary Graves, May 25, 1952 - June 17, 2024

There are few things in this world as repulsive as bilgewater.

Cerberus, my 1979 sloop, remains where I left it in October, at a marina on the Connecticut River. The plan is to get it back into the water soon.

“I’m happy . . . I know it may not be politically correct these days to say so, but, yes, happy, I confess.”

Besides touchy, what is “local,” anyway?     

There is a distinct proprietary protectiveness of the very wealthy among us.

You intimately sense the connection between those who have gone before and those coming after in a small town Memorial Day parade such as ours.

A novelistic chance meeting at a bar in Noyac triggers questions about life in the Hamptons — and triggers generally.

Down where I live, within feet of the marsh, the buzz is constant from about the end of May until early October.