On the Vineyard autumn lingers like Islanders over coffee; no need to rush to the next appointment. Lawns are still green, herb gardens redolent with rosemary, farm fields freshly turned and dusted with a fine powder of lime. Nantucket Sound is navy blue and the salt ponds lie still in the evening hush with a thousand stars splashed overhead.

Thanksgiving this Thursday marks the end of one season and the beginning of another, but this year there is a distinct sense of procrastination about it all. Suddenly we are in no real hurry for winter with its hard freeze and slate-colored sea roughed up by whitecaps.