Leave it to me to spend part of our last day here on the Vineyard typing away, but it's better than watching the NFL draft which need I point out might be a mute point with all the negotiations going on? 'Nough said.

We've had a simply wonderful time relaxing, taking in the sights (and the Royal Wedding, which I was way more excited about than Steve), and eating as if someone told us these were our last meals on Earth and we better make them count. We checked out the sights up-island Thursday when a dense fog stretched out over the cliffs of Aquinnah and the only way we knew that the ocean was out there somewhere was the sound of the surf in the distance. The wind whipped so hard that I was afraid to go out on a rock jetty in Menemsha to shoot some photos for fear I would be blown off the edge. We took many many photos of buoys - they were everywhere - and we thought about our little nephew (still cooking!) who next year this time will be aware of his world and probably saying "Hokie" already.

We repeated our tour again today with clear skies sun and wearing shorts. We were astonished at the difference between the views, the sounds, the experience of the island. We explored this place more deeply and with a more mature curiousity than we ever have before. In the days of "weeks on the Vineyard" past we scoped bars, cheap eats, happy hours, live music. Our trips were mostly trinagulated to OB, Edgartown, South Beach and Katama. We sometimes took a ride up towards Aquinnah to snag a photo of those clay cliffs, but we didn't poke around much unless it was searching for that blue coffee can to pay our respects to Belushi in Chilmark along the way.

We made our way to Lobsterville Beach and decided it would a perfect place to let children play; a quiet, surfless, serene place with such limited parking that I cannot imagine how we could ever get there in time to snag a spot. We fell in love with Lucy Vincent Beach with its rough surf, scattered rocks and cliffs. I was only slightly paranoid that we were going to get stuck on the beach between rocks as the surf flew in fast during a high tide surge. Ok, I was freaked, but I loved it and I want to go back! I want to go back.

We experienced a different kind of Vineyard this time. It felt like our island. It wasn't uncommon for us to drive for miles without seeing a single car on the road. We were sometimes the only patrons at restaurants, the only ones poking around the Black Dog in search of t-shirts. We were amazed with the frenzy of activity happening here to get things ready for the high season. Construction, landscaping, cleaning, painting... it was a busy place with limited things open, but an energy, a buzz. I will never again take for granted those pristine white picket fences that line the Edgartown streets. I was a little put off when the number of visitors seemed to quadruple as Friday rolled in and we saw more people strolling the streets and more cars on the roads. The good weather forecast had brought more people like us and I didn't want to share.

It has always been a special place to Steve and I. We always felt a certain draw to this island that takes too long to get to and can be a challenge to deal with at high season or in bad weather. We like it here. We want to share it with the kids. We want to introduce them to it, give them a tradition that is just ours, create in them a spark to ignite a lifelong flame of affection for this place, provide them with the opportunity to experience that so close and yet so far away peace. It's doable. We're planning it for summer 2012.

It won't be like this trip. I won't read nearly an entire book in two days. We won't spend hours lazing just the two of us, but that's ok. Sometimes sharing something you love is just as wonderful... if not better.


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