Coastal walk with youngest daughter, the other day.
East wind prevailing for the past few days, bearing the briny scent of the ocean even as far as our house two miles inland. Strange to stand in the backyard in sight of only grass and trees and chickens and chickadees and smell the sea.
Eldest daughter (age 24) is back at home for a couple of months until she goes to Germany. It’s nice to have her around. A couple of friends picked her up last night to head north to the local “big city,” Portsmouth.
“Where are you going?” I asked them. The question sounded antique, nostalgic, strange. I qualified it: “I am not asking this in a motherly, I’m-in-charge-of-you way.”
Youngest daughter visited Art In Bloom at the Museum of Fine Arts yesterday and promised to send pics.
Husband is working his side business today, subcontracting with a fellow AA pilot. They are finishing up a stone wall in Rye and starting an excavation job.
Tonight is my third-to-last Food Writing class at Harvard. It will be about 10 degrees warmer in Cambridge today, with even more trees and flowers in bloom. The ocean keeps things cool in New England spring.
Last day of April so it’s May Eve, Walpurgisnacht, Beltane. Weave a May pole, jump a bonfire, drink mead, eat funnel cakes, watch out for witches and faeries and leftist rioters, bathe tomorrow in the first May morning’s dew, go on a picnic.
Daffodils at “The Point,” North Hampton, N.H. (iPhone pic with Camera+)
Two mile walk this morning that barely counts as exercise due to my frequent photo stops and beautiful-day-at-the-end-of-April distractibility.
Working on three things for Food Writing class today, as the semester’s end nears. Planting some stuff in the garden too. Sunny and 63 today, but it feels like 70.
Tree at the end of Atlantic Ave., on a recent cloudy day.
A misery of cold rain today. I’m typing this at the Airfield Cafe, post-omelet, lingering over coffee. A large table of older women just sang happy birthday to their friend. I need to get together with some friends! Too much reading the internet at home alone.
I’m heading down to Boston today, to help one daughter pack for moving home for a couple of months before her next step, and to bring the other daughter a yard sale vacuum cleaner, and then to head to Food Writing class at Harvard.
Tinder for a slow green fire.
A photo circulating on Facebook last night, after the day-long lockdown was lifted and the second bombing suspect captured.
I just got back from the monthly beach cleanup and I’m busy today, with little time for reflection, but I want to post a few links of note from the emotional marathon we’ve all just run here in the greater Boston area.
NECN: Crowd erupts in cheers, claps as law enforcement drives by
Boston Globe: The stories of 2 brothers suspected in bombing. ‘‘He never told me he would be on the side of jihad.’’ – their mother
WSJ: Life in America unraveled for the brothers
Bloomberg: Boston bomb victim in photo helped identify suspects
Minutes before the bombs blew up in Boston, Jeff Bauman looked into the eyes of the man who tried to kill him.
He is the man in the wheelchair photo with Carlos Arredondo, who saved his life. He lost both legs. When he woke up in the hospital, he immediately took pen and paper and wrote, “bag, saw the guy, looked right at me.” He helped identify the suspects.
You can help Jeff Bauman HERE. I donated. It’s a fundraiser coordinated by the Bedford Village Inn in New Hampshire. The owners are friends with Bauman’s parents. MORE from WMUR on how to help.
Also on WMUR, a photo of Jeff in the hospital, with special visitors.
Whirrachee! Red-winged blackbird perched on a reed at Eel Pond, Rye, this morning.
Males were arrayed equidistantly around the pond, in their territories, singing like mad morning beauty.
I got up and went for a 3-mile walk by the ocean before it could dawn on me that I didn’t want to, and before I got sucked into the news online. It was 48 degrees and already blindingly sun-bright at 7:45 a.m.
Blackbirds are members of the family Icteridae, the New World blackbirds, orioles, bobolinks, grackles, cowbirds, and tropical species like caciques. They are distinguished by their cheerful sass and metal-bright songs.
Thanks to Wikipedia, I know also know this fascinating bit…
In the vast majority of the other Ojibwa language dialects, the bird is called memiskondinimaanganeshiinh, literally meaning “a bird with a very red damn-little shoulder-blade.”
Obviously the idea for shoulder patch insignia comes from birds like this. Don’t you think?
I also went for an early walk because I have something to write for class today (before my distracting husband gets home from San Juan, St. Thomas and Dallas tonight) and I always think better after a walk. And I always write better in the morning. So, bye!
“There lives the dearest freshness deep down things” (link)
Our first daffodils bloomed yesterday by a sunny south-facing corner of the house. “Look here,” they say, whenever I go in or out the mudroom door. And the cardinal on the branch says, “Cheer, cheer.”
A great blue heron has been visiting the pond daily, for frogs and fish. Its wings are improbably large and beat so slowly on takeoff it seems it will never clear the trees, but it does.
Today I am planting one more variety of peas and one more variety of spinach, and then just waiting for them to sprout.