I L L U M I N A T I O N N I G H T
This was last night…. but first I have to give you a little history: On Martha’s Vineyard, there’s a neighborhood called The Campground. It began around 1840 as a Methodist meeting place; they came with their families every summer for years, camping out, setting up their tents in this location about a block from the sea. After a while, they started building tiny cottages, with almost no space between them, where their tents used to be. The Tabernacle (above) was constructed in the 1870’s, and is the center of the Campground; the cottages go all around it, with narrow walkways and “roads” just the right size for a horse and buggy, but not so good for cars.
The little houses are dripping with history (and gingerbread!). Illumination Night started in the 1870’s when they began lighting up the Campground; the cottages are decorated with paper lanterns; the evening begins with a community sing in the Tabernacle and picnic dinners on the lawn; then the street lights go out; the cottages light up; and everyone strolls down the lanes to oooh and aah at the colors. And that was last night! I took a million photos….thought you’d like to see some of them . . . Ready? We’re going to get there early and get a good parking space.
I almost don’t know where to start with the photos! The cottages are painted in the most imaginative ways, and they all have porches. Look at that little detail on the screen! And the curtains! Someone loves this house.
Porches, paint, rocking chairs, and gingerbread . . .
I really wouldn’t want to see Joe’s face if I came up with this paint scheme for our house. Death ray eyes. But I sure do love it when someone else does it!
Peeks at simple elegant cottage life.
The furniture, like the cottages, very big on charm. Where less is more.
And more is fun. But you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.
This is where the truly festive people live! Makes you feel normal doesn’t it? So let’s go to the Tabernacle and sing!
On our way there, these two adorable people. And now it begins . . . small town life at its best. ♥
Just so you know where you are now . . .
You’re in there, under the tabernacle…or you’re outside, playing on the lawn, throwing lightsticks around. You’re singing I’ve Been Working on the Railroad, Someone’s in the Kitchen with Dinah, Yankee Doodle Dandy; you sing B – I – N – G – O, and you’re doing stand-up-sit-down songs with the leader of the band.
I think I see you! And then . . . . . . the lights go off! Everyone out of their chairs for the promenade.
Can you hear the crickets? Listen, the dog’s name is Rupert and someone’s going to say Hi to him . . . 🙂 It was a beautiful summer night. Up and down the narrow winding streets everyone goes . . .
The people on the porches love it as much as we do. They get to people watch; we are the animals in their ever revolving zoo!
People go all out, it’s a gift! And we love them for it! ♥
Do you believe in magic?
On and on it goes, and then there are the little details . . .
Porches and pillows, screen doors and candlelight, lace curtains and wine glasses. Glimpses into lamplit living rooms and kitchens, cooking smells and clattering dishes.
And I will close with that. I’d do more, but a.) you need to get back to work, and b.) I’m a little worried. How many photos and videos can one post handle? I don’t know. How is this loading for you? Do you have to wait forever? Let me know. Hope you enjoyed Illumination Night, pretty soon you’ll have the whole picture of life on Martha’s Vineyard! Where the elves run ahead setting up little scenes just for your enjoyment, and the BIG elf, comes along behind and takes pictures of it. xoxo
. . . it’s one thing to tickle the earth with a hoe, as they say, and have corn jump out of the ground, but Martha’s Vineyard is not California — you’re bound to run into trouble here (either too cold, too hot, too humid, too buggie, too rainy, too overcast, too something for unprofessional corn-grower me to take a chance and get my heart broken because it was set on a perfect row of corn). But let’s pretend we all have a big garden out there in the sun filled with rows of perfect ripe corn. If we did, and it was August, and the first corn was ripe . . .
. . . we’d fill a big kettle halfway with unsalted water, put the lid on, and bring it to a rolling boil. Then we’d run out to the garden and pick corn (make a little basket out of our apron skirt and fill it with ears), then back to the kitchen, husk it and drop it in the water.
Then all we do is get it piping hot, as vessel for butter; fresh corn doesn’t have to be “cooked” — three minutes in the water is fine; and it’s sweet, you can eat it with nothing on it …. or slather it with plenty of butter, salt, and pepper.
My dad especially loves sweet corn — he taught us to look for the whitest corn with small tight kernels, the kind that pops off the ear into your mouth. It’s dreamy, if you can find it, your eyes roll back in your head. I can still see all of us around our picnic table in the back yard, my four brothers, just out of the pool, barefooted, brown, and shirtless, my sisters in pink bathing suits with ruffled bottoms, corn kernels stuck to chins, butter rolling off fingers, and my dad, happy as a clam, at the head of the table, saying to my mother, “Pat, it’s so sweet, isn’t it sweet kids?” He LOVES corn season.
There are all kinds of recipes some people think are “improvements” to the corn; lime butter, jalapeno butter, garlic butter, or Parmesan cheese . . . I would definitely eat that if someone served it to me, but at home, we stick to the basics. Perfect is perfect enough for us. Since not all of us can grow it, fresh corn from roadside stands or farmer’s markets is the way to go and worth the trip. While you’re at it, make a few extra ears. . .
