Kim lost her sash Friday night somewhere between the Chappy Ferry and Alchemy. Okay people, settle down! We’ll never find her sash if we panic! Let’s all take a deep breath. There. Okay, the sash is a deep gray satin, and comes to the name “Sashy.” If found, please call the number at the top of the column.

Writing a column for a place such as Chappy makes one ponder the nature of news. What is of interest? There’s little here that would qualify as news elsewhere. The weather is an obvious topic and frequently included, though it’s rarely topical by the time it’s printed. Then there’s the issue of scope. I’m not a roving reporter. I’m not a reporter, period. There are many weeks when I rarely venture past the confines of our property; so if it doesn’t happen here — it doesn’t happen on Chappy. Fortunately though, there exists a remarkable similarity in activities on Chappy from one region to another. If it does indeed happen on North Neck, then it quite possibly is taking place (or will take place) at Poucha or Caleb’s or Long Point. And the things that are unique to my environment — they provide the undeniable spice to an already sizzling column.

I saw a bunch of people this past week that I don’t usually see. Jack McElhinney came to the house via bike to introduce himself in a professional capacity. Jack does fine carpentry, finish painting, wood rot repair (including reproducing moldings), and general handy work. He’s affordable, available and on Chappy. He also does pet sitting. Sounds pretty darn good to me. He can be reached at 508-627-7483.

Earlier in the week, Jed Dowling (via Wasque) stopped with his dog Fiona. Jed was nice enough a few years back to help us out with some housing for an ill relative. Until this past Sunday I’d never met Jed however — just spoke on the phone. Not much more to the story than that: putting a name to voice. A small pleasure, but a pleasure nonetheless.

I’ve noticed that the crows and geese don’t appear to fraternize. They travel in different circles apparently. But those circles both encompass the golf course. I’ve contemplated trying to train the crows to chase the geese off the greens. But I see a few troublesome issues with this scheme. First, I’d prefer that the crows were not on the greens either — their manner of aerating is not the ideal. Second, the geese are bigger; it might work better the other way around (though I have witnessed crows irritating a larger hawk into submission, much the way I did with my older brothers). Last, the assumption that crows are trainable — by me — may be faulty. Yes, I have a certain rapport with my dark friends, but I’ve yet to notice them do much else other than their choosing.

By now, regular readers of this column may have noticed that I have a thing about crows. Their mention appears frequently in these pages. But I challenge anyone who spends even a few hours daily outdoors not to develop a wee obsession with the not so wee birds. Their omnipresence is startling. They are the one true constant to the Chappy landscape. The sun, the grass, the wind all take holidays — but the crows never rest. They call to one another unceasingly like fraternity brothers shouting greetings across the street. They’re on the ground, hopping in textbook shortstop style. They’re on their perches — the flagpole, the oak branches, the roof peaks. They chatter loudly, incessantly, in voices secure of their obscurity. They could openly mock your fashion sense, sharing a laugh with their pals in the neighboring tree, safe in the knowledge that you can’t speak crow.

Peter Wells asked that I remind ferry takers that the On Time II (the smaller boat) will be taken out of rotation for service this weekend. So plan accordingly. The On Time XXVIII will, however, be put into service. Unfortunately this boat only takes crickets. With the proper tickets.

Peter also wanted me to remind readers of something else, but he couldn’t remember what it was. He said his mind was like Fred Sanford, full of junk. Or maybe it’s the 20-hour days he puts in.

The waves on North Neck were audible from our house this morning, which may not seem surprising since our house sits atop the North Neck bluff. But the fact is that we more often hear the waves at Wasque due to the prevailing southwest wind and the size and force of the Wasque waves. This morning, however, our little waves were making a ruckus, hitting the beach with a hard slap. Later in the day, the water was perfectly still and conversations aboard the Chappy Ferry were discernible.

I bought a new wind jacket at a fall sale in an Edgartown shop. Any article of clothing that has the qualifier “wind” attached to it is a smart purchase for the coming months. Thus it follows that I am smart. I proved even smarter when returning later that evening aboard a wind-buffeted Chappy Ferry. Kim asked that I not rip the hanging tag from the jacket by brute force, so I simply stuck the tag into the jacket pocket whilst still appended to the jacket. You won’t get that in the Wall Street Journal.

Speaking of Kim, or the “famous Kim” as one reader called her (not a fame seeker — this is of little pride to Kim), she is mentioned frequently in this column as a partner to the author’s activities. What the reader may not know however is that Kim frequently edits the column for content, thus saving the reader the discomfort of wading through some obscurity, ambiguity and sophomoric asides. Which just proves the old saw: behind every marginally adequate man is a great woman.

The potluck at the Community Center on Wednesday, Oct. 20 will be hosted by Annie Heywood. Appetizers start at 6 p.m. and dinner begins at 6:30 p.m. All are welcome.