Martha's Vineyard and My Addiction to Water

Patty here…

I just returned from a sailing trip on the East Coast that included a land adventure on Martha's Vineyard where I spent a few days visiting friends. (BTW, do you neatly hang up your clothes in guest room closets or do you live out of your suitcase like I do?)



For as long as I can remember, I have loved being near the water. Oceans. Lakes. Rivers. It did not matter as long as H2O meandered, shimmered, or rose in foamy peaks somewhere in my line of vision.

Chilmark Pond, Martha's Vineyard

Perhaps water was so alluring because I grew up in a high-desert climate. In winter, water was merely something that flowed out of faucets in my family’s home. In summer, it cascaded through nearby irrigation ditches where I waded in search of crawdads. Sometimes I’d don my swimming suit and run through the frigid geyser spewing from the sprinkler in my front yard, feeling as if there was no greater joy in the world.

The bridge on Chappaquiddick, Martha's Vineyard

As time passed, ditch wading and summer sprinkler experiences no longer satisfied my addiction, so I moved to Seattle and hung out with friends who owned ski boats and had apartments on Lake Washington. As a grown-up, I spent nearly every vacation on an island somewhere in the world, baking in the sun and feeling the waves lap against my feet.

Menemsha, Martha's Vineyard

At some point I began to dream of owning my own little cottage on the water, believing that would make me happy forever. I read real estate ads until I found an empty lot on the beach in Malibu. I drove out for a look and found my perfect dream come true. However, sometimes the price we are asked to pay for our dreams is just too high. In this case, several million dollars for a 40-foot patch of sand, house not included. That’s when I realized the sad truth. I couldn’t afford a house on the water in Southern California, but I could give my fictional heroine Tucker Sinclair that very piece of property. Moreover, because I’m so generous, I put a little teardown cottage on the lot, too.

Edgartown Yacht Club, Martha's Vineyard

Since then I’ve made a habit of checking out real estate in every watery place I travel, including Martha’s Vineyard. Whether I was “up island” or “down island,” whether I was in Edgartown, Chilmark, Vineyard Haven, or Oak Bluffs, the place fed my addiction for H2O.

Oyster Catcher on Chappaquiddick, Martha's Vineyard

While in the East Chop neighborhood of Oak Bluffs, I looked at an 1890 Victorian cottage for sale, not winterized. Asking price $839.000, front yard telephone pole not included.

East Chop, Martha's Vineyard

I'm back home in Los Angeles now. It’s hot here, so as soon as I finish this post, I’m going to put on my swimming suit and head for the sprinklers. I’ll still haunt real estate offices when I travel because some dreams are worth nuturing.

Have you ever fantasized about living somewhere that seems like an impossible dream?

Happy Monday!