NANTUCKET IN APRIL 69 



Opuntia or prickly pear, a variety of cactus 

 common enough in Mexico and portions of our 

 Southwest, but surprising on this island. 



In these two plants at least east and west stand 

 face to face across Nantucket harbor, the cactus 

 holding the sandspit to the north, the heather 

 on the main island to the south. In April the 

 prickly pear is as ugly as sin to the eye with its 

 lobster-claw growth, uglier still to the hand with 

 its steel-pointed thorns, but later it will put forth 

 wonderful yellow, wild-rose like blooms in rich 

 profusion, making up for all its dourness. Pro- 

 fessor Asa Gray, the distinguished botanist of a 

 half century ago, used to say that nothing in the 

 way of plant life could surprise him on Nan- 

 tucket. Probably this juxtaposition of cactus 

 and heather prompted the feeling. 



Nantucket town straggles from beach to hill- 

 top and along shore at its own sweet will, gradu- 

 ally merging into wind-swept moreland on the 

 south and east and west. Here, again, Bos- 

 tonians should be at home, for the streets grew 

 no doubt from cow-paths winding leisurely from 

 house to pasture, and down them at night, even 

 now, some of them, the cows stray and nibble on 

 the homeward way. I fancy no town so indivi- 



