Author: Taryn McBryde

Steamship Authority ferry approaching Nantucket with Brant Point in view
Nantucket Essays

Steamship Therapy

There is a specific moment, somewhere out past Brant Point, when the island finally lets go of you.

It doesn’t happen at the dock. It doesn’t happen pulling away from Straight Wharf while tourists wave cocktails around on the upper deck and kids throw popcorn at gulls. For a while, Nantucket still hangs onto you. You can still see the church steeples over the rooftops. The masts in the harbor still stand upright against the sky. The shoreline remains detailed enough that you can pick out individual houses, and, for a few minutes, your mind keeps trying to convince itself that you’re still there.

nantucket's oldest house with white mulberry tree
Nantucket Essays

The Perfect Gray of Nantucket Island

People come to Nantucket looking for color.

They expect blue hydrangeas, white sailboats, red sunsets bleeding across the harbor, and the sharp green of beach grass moving in the wind. The postcards sell the island in bright tones. Summer magazines photograph it under impossible June sunlight with women in linen dresses carrying wicker bags down shell paths toward champagne dinners.