News and Events for Nantucket Island
• by Robert P. Barsanti • When they finally flashed I175 on the screen at the Department of Motor Vehicles, I wandered up to a pleasant fleshy woman who wore glasses on a chain of plastic pearls, a green vest, and a big orange button with two children and the […]
• by Robert P. Barsanti • In April, we fled south in search of spring. Up here in God’s Country, Massachusetts, the leaves and flowers only come out when the promise of one more blizzard has passed away. Some years, on Nantucket, the flowers feel confident sometime in late February. […]
• by Robert P. Barsanti • We don’t accept the reality of spring too easily on this island. The calendar, the stars, and even the Red Sox suggest that winter has slipped away. However, the wind shifts to the east, the clouds wash back in, and February rolls over in […]
by Robert P. Barsanti This winter remains in the shadows and in the base of the bushes. It squats, cold and frozen, in the darkness, until the rain and the sun finally drive the dirty ice underground. The crocuses remain hidden under the frozen turf, as do the daffodils. Sometime […]
• by Robert Barsanti • On winter Sundays, I like to sit on a bench on Main Street. The weather rarely drives me inside or keeps my front door locked. The ocean has her gifts; one of her minor ones blows over the island and sends you to the sweaters […]
• by Robert P. Barsanti • The light remains in September. The air clears, the fog settles, and sky glows throughout the afternoon into an operatic sunset. To own a summer home on Nantucket is to also own the bankrupting irony of island living; the best weather comes after you […]
• by Robert P Barsanti • I have a puppy. He has been growing and the honeymoon is ending, but he can turn heads on the street and pose for a picture with the occasional toddler. While many dogs have been chased into and out of my life, he is […]
• by Robert P. Barsanti • She stood at Children’s Beach at six o’clock in the morning. The Eagle hummed with lights and activity, but otherwise the harbor was quiet and still. Four ducks paddled past the sailboats, and their wake, eventually, rolled up on the beach. The sun rose […]
• by Robert P. Barsanti • He has stopped in the crosswalk by the Hub at nine o’clock at night. His phone and my headlights put him in a spotlight; however, because his earphones are in, he cannot hear my car. Instead, he hits himself in the thigh, then begins […]
