We’ve all been living in the Goldilocks period — what scientists have determined to be not too hot, not too cold, but just right for the birth of human civilization. I don’t know about you, but after 11,700 years, I’ve gotten quite used to it. Now we’re entering head-on into the Anthropocene era, a period defined by human domination and the catastrophic mess its created.
Imagine you’re an albatross whose stomach is so bloated with plastic that you can hardly walk. Or a sea turtle suffocating on a plastic bag that you mistook for a jellyfish. Or a socialite at a gala, reaching to nibble on a shrimp canapé and unwittingly ingesting toxic microplastics. Whatever sort of creature you are, the deleterious effects of plastic are almost impossible to avoid.
What’s the hottest you’ve ever been? That time you were gills-to-breathe, flip-flops-stuck-to-asphalt, torture-chamber hot. Almost everyone’s been there. For me, it was Phnom Penn, Cambodia, 2019.
Just because it’s sitting in a wheelbarrow, doesn’t mean it’s local. When I decided to reduce my carbon footprint by eating more local, I had to come to terms with the sad fact that farm stand pineapples are not grown out here. And those pretty packages labeled, “Produit en France?” Probably not either.
One of the dangers of moving out to the East End from the city, is that you could find yourself trapped in a septic tank conversation (and yes, it’s really a thing). Like most New Yorkers, I just assumed that waste water magically disappeared to some far away kingdom inhabited by abandoned pet alligators and our tax dollars. After 14 years of living out here, I still wasn’t exactly sure what a septic tank did.
My 2010 Toyota Corolla is what people politely call a beach car, and impolitely call a piece of … well … they’re just being honest. The exterior is covered in nicks and scrapes. Inside, it looks like I’m always on my way to the dump. It’s the sort of car that you never have to lock, because if someone is desperate enough to steal it, be my guest.
Most people know God for his work as a spiritual guide for the last several thousand years. But what often gets overlooked is that as world creator, he’s an expert on the environment. Since he has over six billion followers (not including Instagram), I was lucky to score an interview with him when I ran into him at the W hotel.
Rainbows, beach walks, silk scarves, jazz and smoky bars are just some themes in Grace Schulman’s new book of poems “The Marble Bed.”
My favorite moment returning home to Sag Harbor after renting our house out has always been discovering Renter Food, the massive amount of stuff left behind that I’d never think to buy, but was happy to find (Cha-Ching!). This was our junk food Christmas.
In 2012, a thirsty dog named Rosie stopped to lap up a bit of water from Georgica Pond. Three hours later she was dead. A toxin called microcystin that’s commonly caused by algae blooms was found in her liver. It’s hard not to see Rosie as the canary in the coal mine. If this could happen in the pond of Steven Spielberg and Ron Perelman, it can happen anywhere.
“Someday, we may not even have the wines that we now know, like Chardonnay and Burgundy,” says Larry Perrine, partner at Channing Daughters Winery in Bridgehampton. “But we’ll always have rosé, right?” I ask, trying to hide the tears in my eyes.
“Curiouser and Curiouser,” said little Alice. This was back in the 19th century, and it came in response to the bizarre things she encountered as she bumbled her way through Wonderland, including stoned caterpillars and free pieces of cake. But Wonderland’s got nothing on 2020.
Self-quarantining is not a new practice for some of us. I have been in training most of my adult life. I am a writer. With agoraphobic tendencies.
I don’t know why I became obsessed over clarifying the difference between things on a plant that will draw blood, but it’s a rabbit hole I fell down that I thought I’d share with you. Perhaps it’s because the word prickle makes me smile, but I thought I’d clarify the terms for us.
The Heckscher’s wide-ranging collection includes European and American art spanning three centuries. To celebrate its centenary, the museum is focusing on works by regional artists, from Edward Moran’s atmospheric 1872 study of fog-bound sailboats in New York Bay (one of Heckscher’s original donations) to a pair of mixed-media works on paper from Bastienne Schmidt’s Underwater Topography series, completed last year. Comprising more than 100 works, “Locally Sourced: Collecting Long Island Artists,” on view through March 15, illustrates the diversity of the region’s creative community, with something to please everyone’s taste, including the children’s.