Category Archives: Uncategorized

BEECH TREES

Beech trees thrive on Martha’s Vineyard. In fall and winter, they color the woods with bright gold leaves, which they keep until spring, when new leaves push off the old. Howie, a Buddhist, was still in San Diego when we decided we would plant … Continue reading

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FOLLOW UP ON THE PORTRAIT

Elizabeth Whelan, the artist painting Howie’s portrait, planned to come to the Vineyard to talk to Howie on the Monday after I told him he would be getting his portrait painted for a Christmas/birthday/anniversary present.  She lives on Nashawena, one of the … Continue reading

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DISHWASHING

It was my turn to make supper. Howie and I had finished a feast of corn pudding, spinach soufflé, mashed potatoes, biscuits, and tapioca. After we’d cleared the table, I gazed at the counters covered with dirty pots, pans, dishes, … Continue reading

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PORTRAIT OF HOWIE

The other day, Mark Attebery, Howie’s son, and I  were discussing my proposed Christmas and birthday present to his dad.  I was waiting for just the right moment to tell Howie about it.  Mark and I were both curious to know Howie’s … Continue reading

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WE LOVE OUR DUMP

A B&B guest who planned on coming to the Vineyard for the first time for a memorial service phoned and asked me what the Island’s dress code was for such an occasion. “Clean jeans and a sports coat,” I told … Continue reading

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MURDER ON C-DOCK

Illustrations by Elizabeth Whelan It was, quite literally, a dark and stormy night, when MURDER ON C-DOCK, my latest mystery, was conceived. At the time I wrote it, I was living on a houseboat in Washington, D.C., only a short … Continue reading

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OVERHEAD WIRES

    When Howie and I win the Massachusetts Lottery’s Mega-Millions (currently $35 million), we have agreed on how we’re going to spend it: Put those ugly overhead electric/telephone wires underground. We’re tired of the electricity cutting off in the … Continue reading

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JACK IN THE PULPIT

When Victoria Trumbull, my 92-year-old poet sleuth, writes her weekly column for the Island Enquirer and needs just the right word, she occasionally glances up from her typewriter at the white-steepled Congregational church in the distant village center. For three … Continue reading

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A POSTSCRIPT TO “INANIMATE OBJECTS”

This morning Howie said to me, “You left out the refrigerator in your post about inanimate objects.   I think you hurt its feelings. It’s weeping.”  He led me into the kitchen where the refrigerator had drizzled a stream of water onto the … Continue reading

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DO INANIMATE OBJECTS HAVE FEELINGS?

“Inanimate objects hate me,” I said to Howie a couple of weeks ago. “Stove, dishwasher, laundry machine, dryer. All of them hate me.” Howie looked up from his microscope, shifted his glasses down from the top of his head so … Continue reading

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