Stratton Sojourn

Last Friday, I took a little trip.  I drove up to Stratton, a tiny village in Eustis, to see my mother and my step-father.  They live in a little house that was built by my grandfather (literally) probably about 1950.  It just occurs to me that I don't know really what year, Mum would know.  I'll have to ask.
It's a 3-hour drive from where I live on the coast.  And it's a 1,148 ft. "climb" from sea level.  My ears pop once in the first hour of driving, and several times in the 3rd hour where the drive is the steepest.
Being in the mountains, they aren't insulated by the ocean like I am, and so, fall comes 3-4 weeks earlier and spring about 3-4 weeks later.  I took the picture above on April 1.

This cyclamen will have to do for Spring color, for now.

The windows on the back of the house look out onto the end of the Bigelow Mountain range.

 The mountains are obscured by cloud cover here.  I took this picture looking out the back door, over the deck railing.  That blue thing is a cooler.  We often use "Mother Nature's Icebox" when the indoor freezer is packed to the gills.  Very handy during holidays and when you have stocked up for having guests.  The little trail has been worn by one of the dogs.  See the azalea?  Won't be in bloom any time soon.

This view is the same as above, just shifted slightly to the left.  Isn't the birch gorgeous? The deciduous tree on the right is a cherry tree.  My grandfather planted it over 50 years ago.  There is kind of a family story associated with that tree. When it was still quite small, my grandfather looked out one fall (or maybe early spring? I just know the tree wasn't all leafy) day, and saw a partridge (hereafter, referred to as "pa'tridge", in deference to local dialect) roosting in it.  It looked quite disproportionate, where a partridge is a larger kind of bird and the cherry tree being young was quite small, so he got his camera and got a picture.  For some reason, there are multiple copies of the "pa'tridge in a cherry tree", and one always seem to show up randomly in any collection of pictures my grandmother had.  She even had taken a picture of my grandfather taking a picture of the pa'tridge in the cherry tree.  I never look at that tree without thinking of the pa'tridge story.

My stepfather, Jim, is an avid outdoorsman, and has always kept bird-hunting dogs.  Lil is an elderly Brittany Spaniel, and very sweet and gentle.  She was quite a birder in her day.  May is a younger dog, a French Brittany, which are just a bit smaller, a little more of a delicate build.  She has a personality like a firecracker, or a Jack Russell terrier.  She is as smart as a whip, and very strong-willed.  She has been very difficult to train, but also knows how to win you over, when you're about to give up on her in exasperation.  We had a standoff when she slinked off with a slipper I had kicked off, and so I picked up her Nylabone.  There we were, staring at each other, finally she dropped the slipper and came for the bone.  It was really quite entertaining.  She and I became good friends!

It doesn't take her long to get up in the warm recliner when Jim gets up for a minute!  And being very nosy, she's always making sure she doesn't miss anything.
I think I miss her a little.
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Edited 4/5 to add:

If you haven't been over to Mary Jane's Tearoom, I gently suggest you get over there, as there is quite a premium giveaway going, which you can enter through April 17th.  .  See all the Cath Kidston pretties, and the Debbie Bliss Baby Cashmerino.  If you enter as a result of seeing this little mention, let me know.    Happy Saturday!

Late Sunday Afternoon at the Quincy Market

As we drove through Boston on Sunday, I was just not ready with the camera, and I wish I had been.  I don’t know how many message screens we saw all with the same message:  “THANK YOU ALL”   alternating with “WE ARE ONE BOSTON”.  I wasn’t expecting it, and I choked up each time I saw one.  We passed under an overpass in Medford (where bombing victim Krystle Campbell lived) which was covered with American flags.  Later, a banner strung up on an overpass really grabbed me; it read in a child-like font on a brightly-colored background:  “no more hurting people.  peace.”  Wow.

Today I watched the Memorial for MIT police officer Sean Collier on New England Cable News (necn.com), and I would highly recommend going to the website and listening to Joe Biden’s speech.  So moving.  And James Taylor singing. And the bagpipers playing Amazing Grace.  It was very cathartic for me, and I believe it was a very important part of the recovery of the many people there or watching on TV.
Okay, I really do have other things to talk about, I promise.

Jeff and Sean on the right.

On Sunday, after the Lacrosse game we made our way to the giant food court that is Quincy Market.  I took some pictures, but I really didn’t do the offerings justice.  I don’t know how many vendors there are, but I bet it could be 50.

You walk right down a central aisle with counters on both sides.  There are deli-style offerings, various international cuisines including sushi, Indian cuisine, Mexican, Italian, traditional New England seafood, fruity smoothies and ice cream, delectable pastries, pizza, barbecue, I can’t remember it all.  .  
We were overwhelmed, and hungry as we were, it took a long time to make decisions. We wanted one of everything.  I took a couple of pictures, but they came out quite unappetizing.  I really wish I had taken pastry pictures.  At one of the counters, I got (to take home) a box containing a fruit éclair, a red velvet cupcake, an Oreo cannoli, and the best thing was a really decadent item called a lobster tail.   I had never seen one, and I’m going to see if I can find a recipe or something to help me describe it to you.  I’m pretty sure that that is all they serve in heaven.

In the middle of the building are 2 levels of seating/standing for diners. There were families everywhere, chattering away in languages from all over.


By the time we finished eating it was well after 6 pm and apparently that is
when most of the vendors close up shop on Sundays. One vendor told me he was staying open a little longer to make up for Friday’s lost business building, running the length of it, are add-on glass enclosures. Therein are vendor carts full of art, gift items, and other engaging novelties, but they were when the city was under a “shelter-in-place” request. On each side of the almost all closed, so we couldn’t browse.
I tried to capture the message around the edge of the mezzanine, but if you can’t read it, it says:  “This building  has served the people of Boston as the central market since its dedication in August 1826.”    Why didn’t I take a picture of the rotunda?

The back of Faneuil Hall.
Quincy Market is directly behind Faneuil Hall, an important historic building.


As you can see, I had fun taking (too many) pics of Samuel Adams’ statue  in front of  FH (in inadequate light). There is a museum housed there, also closed at the time of our visit.  I provided a link for those of you interested in learning more about Samuel Adams.  Hint:  his legacy had nothing whatsoever to do with beer.

We strolled around the building enjoying the atmosphere in the waning daylight.    There are benches everywhere, and you can imagine the scene on a sunny weekday at midday, when lunchers ranging from tourists to workers in the nearby Financial District and Government Center are enjoying their selections from the Market.
This drummer was dripping with sweat, as he gave an amazing performance to passersby.
 
He was very friendly and didn’t mind having his picture taken.  That is a frying pan sticking up out of the traffic cone, and was one of his improvised percussion instruments.


It’s been ages since I’ve been to the area, so the huge statue of Kevin White (mayor of Boston 1970-1984) was new to me.  You can see it behind the drummer above.  When I first saw it, I assumed it was a Kennedy, but then I found the plaque on the ground identifying him.
I hope you enjoyed this little visit to a popular Boston landmark.

My Massachusetts

I lived in Massachusetts from the time I was a toddler until I graduated from college.  Sometimes I wish I had stayed, at least in New England.  But mostly I am glad that I have lived in Ohio, Illinois and California.  (pic from NESN)

New Englanders, and in particular Bostonians, are afflicted, er, imbued with inordinate pride of place, and it could be that I am no different.  But, I have experienced the virtues of other areas of our beautiful and proud country.  There is so much to see and to love.

(Photo from boston.com, credited to Joao Bustolin of Somerville; the glow on the right is coming from the lights at Fenway Park.)
One thing I have learned in my travels is that some Americans have come to expect an arrogant superiority from folks “back East”.  One young lady eventually confided that she hadn’t wanted to get to know me, simply because I was from the east.  I smile now when I think of it, because of all the wonderful friends I made, and all the fun I’ve had seeing different places.  So it means all the more to me that people from all over America, and even all over the world, have made declarations of kinship with Boston since the tragic occurrences since last Monday’s Marathon.  I don’t know what the news coverage was like where you live, but I had NECN (New England Cable News) on most of last week, and the only news was about the Marathon. 

There was some little bit of coverage of the explosion in West, Texas, but still the vast majority was focused on the Boston attacks and subsequent pursuit of the culprits.    So, I want to say that even though I am blogging about what’s going on here in my little corner of the world, my thoughts and prayers are also with the people of West, as they mourn their losses, and try to rebuild their lives.

On Sunday, Jeff (DH) and Sean (DS3), and I drove down through Boston to attend a lacrosse game at beautiful Stonehill College in Easton.  My middle son Evan (DS2), #11 (lt. blue jersey) in photos,  plays club lacrosse at the University of Maine at Orono (UMO), and they had traveled to Stonehill for a 3 pm match. 
(Ian, DS1, also attends UMO and had club baseball games in Boston, but they were canceled, maybe because of the preceding week?)



It was a beautifully bright and sunny day, but a bit nippy, about 50 degrees, and breezy.  The trees were budding out a little ahead of ours, but the city is not yet in bloom.




Including the 3 of us, I counted 8 UMO Black Bears fans in the stands, so I met and talked to the other family.  It was sort of fun to watch except that the Bears were quite outmatched.




Stonehill’s team was about 3x larger than ours, so they always had fresh legs to sub in. 

But I don’t go to LaX games for the winning part of it. 




(Which is good, because LaX is still in its infancy in our town, and we are routinely beaten.)




Next post will feature Quincy Market/Faneuil Hall pictures in Boston.

Historic New England

Oh, I’ve had such a wonderful day!  I took a day off work to meet a college friend who lives in New Hampshire.  We chose a spot on the Maine-N.H. border – South Berwick to be exact.
Historic New England (formerly known as The Society for the Preservation of New England Antiquities) has 3 properties in South Berwick, but only one was open today:  The Hamilton House.  So that’s where we met, and took the tour, before having lunch (an amazing lunch) at the Pepperland Café.  This fabulous restaurant is across the street from another Historic New England property, the Sarah Orne Jewett House.  Do you know the name?  I know it, but I don’t know if one would if one hadn’t read Country of the Pointed Firs for their New England Literature class (sprinkled in with Emerson, Thoreau, Dickinson and Frost).
On the tour, guests are not permitted to take photos inside the house.  But, oh did I have an itchy shutter-release finger.  The house, built in 1785-6, was home for Hamiltons, then Goodwins, before being bought and restored by the Tyson ladies of Boston.  They must have had significant resources at their disposal, and worked hard to restore it to the grandeur of its early 19th-century life. They added gardens and used the house as a summer home, wintering in Boston, and ultimately leaving the house and garden and much of the furnishings to the Society, I think they said in the 1940’s.  Do see the photos of the interior on the website.

We strolled in the garden before and after the tour, enjoying balmy breezes off the Salmon Falls River.

So, I’ll share with you some shots of the lovely gardens.  In the picture below, I have my back to the house, and you can see a little cottage.  Apparently, this was situated in N.H., and was to be demolished.  But the Tyson ladies had it moved.  This garden area used to be the location of a decrepit barn, which they obviously removed.  By placing the cottage among the gardens, they had a little place for seclusion, or for entertaining.  Currently, the docents have some office space in there, and they begin the tour there.
The cottage has a little garden all its own.  (And I didn’t adjust the color on these morning glories!!)

Apparently, it was a common practice to use a millstone as a paver in gardens, and the Tysons collected no less than 14 for their gardens.  I photographed many of them, but I’ll spare you.

You probably recognize the pineapple as a colonial symbol of hospitality.  I read (I think on the Colonial Williamsburg website), that when a sea captain came home from exotic places, a pineapple was displayed prominently (perhaps on the gate, or above the front door?) to indicate that he was receiving callers.

This fountain is marble, and a treasured piece, and is replicated on a painted mural in the sitting room overlooking this garden.  (oops, I just realized I uploaded this photo twice, but it’s so pretty, I’ll leave it.)
There were some lovely cherubs cavorting here and there, see them hold up the bird bath?


One feature of Georgian architecture is Palladian windows.  This one in the door below was installed in the little garden cottage to echo those in the main house.  There was a much larger one opposite it, which I wish I had photographed, but it was in shadow.  You could see that both were entirely the original glass, completely with ripples, bubbles and wavy distortion.  I was hoping that would show in the pic, but it doesn’t.

Just a striking bouquet, even in shadow, in front of the large Palladian window that I didn’t get a picture of.
So sweet, I wish I had taken close-up pictures of the facial expression.

Just a gratuitous view of an old New England barn, where one of the 3 full-time gardeners has just finished mowing.
After my visit with my friend, I drove and drove all around the hilly farmland, enjoying rustic pastoral views at every turn.  Farmers’ Markets, antique shops, and PYO (pick-your-own)  apple orchards.  In all my years here, I have never picked apples.  Everybody always asks:  “Have you picked your apples yet?”  And for years, I would shrink guiltily, and say vaguely, “No, not yet…”, and silently wonder if I should feel ashamed of not harvesting the bounty allotted to me.  I’ve since gotten over it.