Those who frequently drive along Noyac Road will be familiar with a pair of signs along the route: a chicken and an egg. They’re just around the bend from the marina at Wooley Pond and welcome people to North Sea Farms. It’s actually a rooster and not a chicken, hinting at the lighthearted farm humor at play.
“Did you notice the turkeys when you pulled in the driveway?” asks Richie King, who owns the farm with his wife, Robin.
There’s nothing quite like the sound of the English-handbell choir during the Christmas season at the First Presbyterian Church in East Hampton, when gloved hands ring gleaming bells and chimes at exactly the right moment to create songs that evoke angels.
These are the hands of the community: everyday people who come together to make music — and magic and the holiday spirit.
Places and populations have personalities, too, and one of the deep-seated quirks of East Hampton is a predilection for pranks. We have a long history of (mostly) harmless mischief.
A blues talent beyond his years, discovered as a youth here in 2013, gets ready for the big stage. Henry Koepp introduces you (again) to Casey Baron
Despite what the poultry pushers over at Butterball might have you believe, turkey isn’t a strictly universal Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner standard in various corners of America — and it definitely wasn’t always on the holiday table here in Bonac.
Some of us, of literary bent, can’t walk past the South End Burying Ground — the cemetery, that is, by Town Pond, the one with the weeping willows — without being reminded of the famous closing lines of James Joyce’s short story The Dead:
Thousands gather to raise money for charity at three polar-bear plunges each winter. The numbers send a chill down your spine.
A wilderness? A suburban neighborhood? East Hampton's answer to the lost Jamestown settlement? Richard Whalen delves deep into the history and lore of the mysterious and beckoning Northwest Woods
Berton Roueché and his wife, Kay, lived on the north side of Amagansett in the early 1970s. Nearby was Quail Hill and its doyenne, Deborah Light Perry, who tended a covey of 36 cats — inspiring Roueché's pulp horror novel, Feral. David Rattray remembers a time, a place, and an incredible cast of characters from a less-tame past
