Between the outstretched hand and the fruit.

The Nunnery
6:32 PM

Returned last night from a week in Brant Rock, Marshfield, a sandy hamlet nestled beachily between Boston and Cape Cod, spiritually similar and geographically proximate to the home of the home of my home.

While there, M. and I took a side-trip and spent two days on the Vineyard, marking the first time I've laid eye or planted foot on it in nigh eighteen years. Wednesday and Thursday were our birthdays (hers and mine, respectively) and we treated ourselves to a beautiful and memorable stay on the island. We inned at Edgartown and, while there, we had one of the best meals of my life at Atria. Sabitathica's official assesstimate: for location, presentation, and the most truly cared-about food, with the highest quality of both ingredients used and attention paid to preparation, highly recommended.

And we went into Boston proper for a day too, the Back Bay mostly. We had a fine bottle of wine at Ciao Bella, where we also stumbled into the beginning of a more or less day-long conversation which I'm unfortunately but decidedly not at liberty to reproduce here.

The week was spent fully, packed to overflowing with good times, good times. So much so that we unfortunately didn't have the time to see everyone I would have liked to have seen. Notably Marko and the family Prather.

Now playing: Life in a Northern Town by The Dream Academy.