What happens when a contemporary composer winds up living on the Island.
By Dean Rosenthal
After forty-something years the greatest Vineyard band you never heard of is releasing a debut album.
By Geoff Currier
As idyllic as Island farming may seem, making a go of it is, and always was, a mysterious combination of constant hard work and occasional good luck. At West Tisbury's iconic Nip'n'Tuck Farm, it's always been, well, nip and tuck.
By Tina Miller
Alex Friedman was getting antsy. Tuna season had opened the day before and he hadn’t gone out because it looked like there would be foul weather offshore. But now, as we sat in Oak Bluffs harbor onboard his thirty-five-foot H&H Downcast F/V, Dazed & Confused, the VHF radio was blurting out conversations between captains and aerial fish spotters who had gone out and apparently they were getting some action.
By Geoff Currier
In the summer, volunteers on the Vineyard visit beaches under the light of the moon to count horseshoe crabs as they come ashore to spawn.
By Sara Brown
On the morning of Wednesday, July 1, 1891 a large flag with a white background, blue border, and the words “Harbor View” in crimson letters was run up the flagpole of a new enterprise at the very edge of Edgartown.
By Nis Kildegaard
The magical realism of Cindy Kane.
By Alexandra Bullen Coutts
On June 18, 1722, a small group of men from Martha’s Vineyard were out on what should have been a short whaling voyage when they saw a terrible sight approaching their sloop.
By Gregory Flemming
On the davits of the venerable Charles W. Morgan is a brand-new killing machine that was handmade at Gannon and Benjamin in Vineyard Haven.
By Tom Dunlop
Captain William A. Martin of Edgartown was that rarest of things, an African American Whaling Captain.
By Skip Finley
The wasps are tiny, almost invisibly so, but their vandalism is evident all across the Island.
By Peter Brannen
It’s not widely known yet, but birds are infiltrating the world of humans at levels never before seen. This movement is not driven by preference for our company, but by a perception among birds that few other choices remain. Their habitats gobbled, unable to beat us, they have decided to join us. Literally.
By Wes Craven
