Sagaponack Community News, April 10

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With his song, the robin further lightens the morning. He sings each time a rain shower quickens.The fields are turning green again. The rye fields are solid blocks, irregular in their flat shape but completely uniform in lush color, a platform that could support your weight. Chickweed outpaces the winterkilled oats. The arid pallet of brown and gray is becoming the spectrum of blue and green. Even non-farmers appreciate the change; some of them stop long enough to paint it.

Yes, Sagg has a unique light. It also has a unique cloud, as in the mists and fogs that are so common here, especially in spring. One sets up now, making my immediate proximity seem plausibly infinite, or, better yet, back 20 years.

Farmers are starting on their warmest ground. Some are saying it’s too wet to plow; others didn’t slip but didn’t do much plowing either. A few peas got in. The ground I saw being turned in Poxabogue looked awfully inviting, but in southern Sagg the topsoil I probed was 41 degrees.

One of my co-workers smiled and began to laugh at me. He pointed back toward the ocean and said, “What, you expect it’s gonna be any different with all that cold water churning out there?” He then transferred his attention to the ground we stood on: “It’s the same right here.” And then he finally did laugh at me.

April, as a month, doesn’t have a smooth reputation. This isn’t because she’s outright cruel so much as her individual duty forces her to force. In pushing life, death too prevails. So while half the community was wishing Merrall a happy 90th birthday, another part of the community was saying farewell to Peter. For the life of a small town, two elders, two old-timers passing milestones at once is apt to stir a shock wave.

I went to the ocean, a place I’m bound to go most Sundays until the crowds arrive. It was blowing but bright, and I put my back to the snow fence and stared out over the calm ocean. I see a flash and bring my binoculars in on two gannets that are flying Fleur-de-lis. They are in unison spiral, then soaring out in directions opposite, but, mirroring each other in moves and paths, they loop back toward each other.

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