On the south shore of the island, downwind of the sewer beds, you can rent a house for $25,000 a week. For that money, you get two master bedrooms and two guest bedrooms. Each bedroom has an “en suite” bathroom and a television set. The master bedroom, of course, features a “state of the art” shower. The house is less than a mile downwind from the beach..
The lilacs have bloomed. The purples colonies of flowers dip down into the sunlight, and suffer the ministrations of the bees. If the wind isn’t blowing from the east, the heavy drift of their scent washes through the windows and pools up in the air.
by Robert P. Barsanti The new year begins when the grass does. Sometime, after enough rain and enough sun creep through the fog banks, the grass returns to life and goes green. Crocuses and daffodils pop before the Easter eggs and the lawn, but they run a false flag operation. […]
• by Robert P. Barsanti • I left the island for supplies last week. My island economy is hard fought and learned from years of stepping into an on-island hardware store or a clothing store for “just one thing…” and emerging with five things, each one markedly higher than their […]
• 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 • I was thinking about how strange it is. My two boys and I have spent much of the summer at Cisco this year. Freed from the predictable pattern of the pond, they run through the dunes, spray themselves with sun screen and plunge into […]
• by Robert P. Barsanti • Through a happy accident, I spent ten days on Kauai. Hawaii is everything Elvis promised us it would be: beautiful flowers, great surf, and barbecue. We spent days in a different ocean and nights under unfamiliar stars. By the end of our stay, all […]
• by Robert P. Barsanti • His father and I sat in the wicker chairs and considered Sunday afternoon from the living room of the family summer house. We sat in fifty-year-old bamboo chairs, with cold drinks, and the ticking of the afternoon soft in our ears. Sometime soon, he […]