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  •     Let’s talk about the smell of fish. It’s often scorned, but the objectionable redolence is usually the result of proteins gone bad, spoiled. The truth is, fish fresh out of the water smell sweet, fish in the water sweeter still.

  • “Caught”
    Jeff Nichols
    CreateSpace, $9.99

  •    Bruce Palmer oversees things at the East Hampton Town’s recycling center in Montauk, directing people with tires to the tire bin, people with old grills and lawnmowers to the metal container, checking for scofflaw dumpers dumping without benefit of a 2013 sticker — all these things with a mind that drifts seaward at times.

  •    Montauk is bipolar this time of year. When the summer’s southwesterly winds start to blow in May and early June, a Mason-Dixon line of sorts runs the length of the peninsula that is the east end of the South Fork.
        The land south of the line is shrouded in thick, cold fog where the winter ocean first meets warm air blowing off the land west to east. North of the line, where the cold sea has less influence, the land is often bathed in warm sunlight.

  •    The lilacs are in bloom, a sure sign that the fish local Indians called squeteague, and later dubbed tide runners, sea trout, or weakfish, have arrived right on their ancient schedule.

  • Resorts report that concern over the loss of sand and dunes caused by Hurricane Sandy and the string of northeasters that followed has sparked increased interest in Montauk as a summer destination.
  •     Both houses of the New York State Legislature have passed a measure that would allow the municipalities of East Hampton, Southampton, and Southold to transfer land, at little or no cost, to the trustees of those townships.
        The measure, which awaits Governor Andrew M. Cuomo’s signature, was championed by Assemblyman Fred W. Thiele Jr. of Sag Harbor and Senator Kenneth P. LaValle of Port Jefferson.

  •    Like the swallows to Capistrano (although I’ve read development has interrupted their instinctual return of late), Steve (The Perv) Kramer rolled into the Ditch Plain parking lot a few days ago from his winter haunts in Florida with a neatly trimmed beard. He is called Perv for no reason darker than his penchant for the odd, ribald observation. This does not make him a bad person.

  • On the foggy early morning of May 8, 1978, a strikingly beautiful sailing yacht went hard aground on the rocks just east of Ditch Plain Beach in Montauk.
  •    I recently completed a two-day course to become a C.P.O., a certified pool operator, a person who’s responsible for keeping swimming pools and spas free of disease, injury, and worse. The class was held upstairs at the Montauk Firehouse.
        Most of the dozen or so who attended were renewing their certification. I was a first-timer and knew that chlorine had to be kept at a certain level to keep pathogens at bay. What could be simpler? 

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