Annette Anthony runs fresh cranberries through 100-year-old equipment. Timothy Johnson

Sunday, November 19, 2017

This upcoming Thanksgiving 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.

Nature agrees, and on the Vineyard autumn lingers like two lovers over coffee; no need to rush to the next appointment on the calendar. 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.


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