Some sources describe this walk as a dance, but I think it looks more like the bird is imitating a “low rider” car…

They were bundled on stretchers and placed side by side on the engine box of the mail boat.

Dishes also benefit from being labeled as they gallivant around the island via pot luck suppers…

Mom’s way was usually how we did things. Her family nickname was, “the Cruise Director.”

Their appreciation of the island reminded me to listen again to the quiet.

The summer girl in me still feels lucky to be the one standing on the dock, waving, as people crowd the mailboat…

Breathe in… Breathe out… Breathe in… Breathe out. If you are reading this while in the throes of a hectic island August, you might be thinking, “Yes, stay calm. Remember to breathe. Soon this pace of all good things will get slower and slower.”

A hard-shell lobster cooked in this manner is just as dry and chewy as it sounds.

To walk through that room, with suitcases in hand, and three full weeks of island life in front of me…