Learnings from Nantucket

I am looking at my favorite photograph of my summer house in Nantucket.
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It is not a particularly pretty picture. It was taken on a cloudy and gray day. You cannot see the beach, or the moors, or much of the house itself. What you can see is this: in the foreground a man, dressed more like a European tourist visiting a church than a beachgoer. He is wearing jeans and a beige pull-over sweater. A large camera bag is slung over his right shoulder. He is standing near the bushes, bushes I know to be prickly and filled with poison ivy. He is holding a large camera in front of his face. The camera is pointed at a rather ordinary-looking shingle-style house.

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