I drove into Owen Park and parked on the hill to hunt for my gloves. Driving while feeling under car seats is not good. I could have left them in a couple of places, or they might be in one of the pockets of the four layers I had on. Actually I hadn’t seen them since yesterday. So they may have been blown into some corner of the market parking lot last night.

The wind is very cutting when you are walking into it and the temperature is in the low twenties. The A& P parking lot (you know what I mean) has always been a killer. All the wind on the Island seems to focus there when you are pushing a loaded basket over the bumpy asphalt on a bad night. I couldn’t get my coat buttoned, I’d left my hat in the car, and the gloves were nowhere. What were all these people doing, filling up the parking lot, all of us struggling with our bags and car doors and the driving sleet? Why weren’t they home in their warm houses? Of course I wasn’t the only one trying to stock up before a storm — which never materialized. Just another A& P parking lot wind and rain and darkness storm.

The next day the not-quite-a-storm had blown itself out. It was very cold, but quiet and sunny, so different from the night before. There wasn’t a single car in Owen Park, in the lot below, or on the hill, with a straight view out to the harbor; where I thought I saw some icy patches. It was so cold. The Island Home was looming up over there in its slip, like a piece of an iceberg broken loose. And the couple dozen sailboats out there (I counted them) looked quiet and safe at their moorings on the smooth water of the harbor. I had some coffee and a croissant from the Black Dog. Comfort in a storm.

Before I left I got out of the car and went to look in the trunk of the car. Gloves could be anywhere. And they were. A nice pair, mislaid or lost the week before, but not the ones I was looking for. They will probably turn up next week, somewhere.

Gazette contributor Jeanne Hewett lives in Vineyard Haven.