The Vineyard is too beautiful for its own good, at least when it comes to climate change. It’s hard to look past the shimmering goldenrod and deep autumn ocean to see growing cracks in the Island’s foundation.

The soil, trees and plants — the powerful roots of wispy beach grass — keep this Island afloat. The land and sea provide food and shelter. Clean air and water sustain our human health. The beaches and parks, forests and farms, vast water views and bold hydrangeas are the fuel that fire the local economy. This is our foundation.

Tornadoes, an earthquake, the edge of a hurricane — all in Massachusetts, all in one summer. This is unusual, as are the record number of recent floods, droughts and storms across the planet. The natural world is in a climate change flux and even the lush, green foundation beneath our sandy feet is shifting — invasive species are quickly and quietly changing the local landscape.

Neither surf nor turf, land or sea, salt marshes are a spongy, mucky, stinky in-between zone full of biting, stinging, snapping creatures. Yet they are stunning to the eye — think Poucha Pond, Mattakesett Bay, Nashaquitsa Pond. And more importantly they are one of the most productive ecosystems on earth.

Salt marshes — our local coastal wetlands — provide recreation, jobs, human health and safety protections, and an incredible array of environmental benefits.

With sea level rise at our doorstep and storms chomping away at the shoreline it’s time to rethink an economy based largely on seasonal, coastal recreation. Why? Because as Ginny Jones, a lifelong Islander from a farming family muses so succinctly, “We can’t eat tourists.”

Eat fish, we are told, they’re good for the body and brain. Eat local fish to support the Island economy and limit the use of fossil fuels used to transport food. But eating traditionally local seafood will become a challenge as marine species struggle to adapt to changes in ocean waters due to human-induced global warming. Some species may not be local for long.

Southern New England is overdue for a major hurricane. The last big one, in terms of lives lost, damage and cost, was the Great Hurricane of 1938. A lot has changed since then that will make the next one even more severe.

Less than three per cent of the earth’s water is fresh, the water that sustains us. As the oceans rise due to global warming salt water is creeping into coastal aquifers, underground reservoirs where drinking water is stored. This is called saltwater intrusion.

In 1998 the Environmental Protection Agency designated the entire Vineyard as a sole source aquifer, which means our groundwater is the sole source of drinking water for “the Island’s residents and visitors; there is no viable alternative source of sufficient supply.”

The Vineyard will be a very different place in 100 years, notes Island naturalist Gus Ben David. The changes in his lifetime have been “phenomenal,” he says, especially the explosion in population and degradation of natural habitat.

Despite the gadgets and technological wizardry that define our era, human beings don’t require much to survive. Yet we’ve manipulated the natural world to the point where our basic needs are at risk. The World Health Organization says it best: “Climate change affects the fundamental requirements for health — clean air, safe drinking water, sufficient food and secure shelter.”

In one quick generation the Vineyard be came a famous summer resort destination. The shoreline and its recreational joys became the drum that beats the local economy. And now that economy is at risk of cracking under the weight of climate change.