As I was leaving Wittendale’s the other day holding a tall milkweed plant on the way to check out, a monarch butterfly flitted about me — a good sign.
As I was leaving Wittendale’s the other day holding a tall milkweed plant on the way to check out, a monarch butterfly flitted about me — a good sign.
There is a rhythm emerging in the struggle between me and the deer over who rules the garden.
Cellphone service is not all that bad around here — in February.
Research does not support the idea that marijuana is performance-diminishing.
Sharks have arrived here, and not just the sort able to think that parking among the dead is okay.
A third Covid-19 surge is now expected as a the stronger Delta variant reaches the unvaccinated portion of the United States population.
What began as a simple college website search sends a dad into a tech tailspin.
As the arguments against dramatically changing or even closing East Hampton Airport are whittled away, a last resort is emerging, that there are too many wealthy people here for that to happen.
The release of the Netflix mini-series “Halston” coincided with my discovery of a letter I’d written to a friend in Europe in early 1978 and never sent, containing my firsthand account of a busy Friday night when the designer played a starring role.
If I think about it, I’m at my happiest around a bonfire, on the beach.
Juneteenth, the new national holiday marking the end of slavery as an institution in the United States, came and went in East Hampton Town and Village with only slight notice.
If I were sermonizing, I’d write one on the folly of self-abasement, self-doubt, self-mortification, self-flagellation, and self-loathing.
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