Summer of '75

This sustained heatwave has me thinking about the summer of 1975, the year my niece Kayla was born. Growing up in Rhode Island, without air-conditioning, the beach was our recreation and our refuge. Blankets and towels would be spread out and items from coolers to sandals to books and radios would be placed on the corners to keep the welcome onshore winds from flipping up the corners. No stranger would ever dare to step into that territory and onto another person’s blanket. But that summer, the unrelenting heat, hot sun and nights which never really cooled down, meant the silver-gray sand became almost impossibly hot to walk on. 

Our family spent every summer day possible down at Sand Hill Cove. But during that fierce heatwave, my sister Karen would take her newborn down to Bonnet Shores, where her husband Bill’s Auntie Muriel had a cabana. That meant a safe and shady spot for Kayla and some respite for Karen. As a 17 year old little sister/Auntie/babysitter, I was lucky enough to tag along. Walking from the cabana down to the water was a challenge. We would walk as quickly as possible, but we had to stop repeatedly to burrow our feet more deeply into the slightly cooler sand beneath the surface. But something remarkable also happened. People were placing the improvised weights for their beach blankets farther in from the edges and allowing - nay, inviting folks to step on the blankets to cool down their sizzling feet. 

There was a wonderful feeling of practical kindness and camaraderie; a sense of us all pulling together to peaceably beat the heat. Kayla turned out to be a kind and generous soul. She was clearly born in the right summer, in the right corner of the world.

Rail Trail Therapy

We took a walk on the Rail Trail this afternoon. We were not the only ones with that idea. It was crowded - well, for that particular section it felt crowded. Sometimes, when we’re walking and the only ones there, I ask Chuck if he phoned ahead to reserve it just for us. Today, not so much. As clouds moved in and out in front of the sun, we saw solo walkers, runners and bicyclists; couples, and young families with children and dogs, strollers and tricycles. We all exchanged greetings as we passed each other. A lot of “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” because it really was.

For that hour we all kept to our family groups. We all breathed deeply of the fresh late winter / nearly spring air. We let our legs carry us, almost on autopilot, as we tried to let the news headlines recede for a little while.

Respite is important. Moving, breathing, listening to our own breath, feeling the wind on our faces - all of it is restorative.

So is social connection. We currently have social isolation as the headline. But we can still connect. Phone calls, emails, texts, Facetime, Skype, letters, cards, Twitter, Instagram, Facebook… so many ways to reach out and stay in touch.

Rabbis and Cantors are streaming services in empty sanctuaries, but that livestream is illuminating a living room, a kitchen, a studio apartment, as well as the congregants there joining in prayers and singing the songs. We are finding new ways to connect.

Keep breathing. Keep focusing on the greater good. Pick up the book or the knitting or the model ship or the stack of crossword puzzles. Haul out the Scrabble and Monopoly boards. Be present. When the worry rises up, let it. Sit with it for a moment and then use a lifeline to phone a friend. In this challenging time, those calls are unlimited.

Solstice Sunset

There was a brief and subtle sunset tonight. Photographs couldn't do it justice. It was soft pink to mauve; a streak of yellow across orchid; and then a burst of magenta; closing to soft blue gray. It was in the upper twenties, the air crisp and the snow crunched quietly underfoot as we walked on the paths and in the woods. The Shortest Day. The Solstice. Winter officially begins, even as the subtle shift happens and the days begin to grow longer. Beautiful...

Personal Storms

Over on Facebook, a smart and funny friend who is not originally from New England, was a bit fed up with all this snow. To be fair, three nor’easters in quick succession can do that. He also was rolling his eyes over people telling him about other major storms. It was his last comment, a bit of a toss off, which gave me pause. He said folks remember the names of the storms, but no one remembers when they happened.

I do. I remember the Halloween blizzard. It was in 2011. The Easter/April Fools Blizzard was in 1997, which I also remember. The Ice Storm of 2008 I remember vividly. Hurricane Hanna was also in 2008 and will never be forgotten. There are many, many more - including the ones my parents and grandparents told me about: the hurricane of ’38 and Hurricane Carol in 1954.

Many of the storms are notable for their power, their fierceness, their damage and aftermath. But what I mostly remember are the personal stories.

When my Providence, Rhode Island dwelling grandparents and parents spoke of the Hurricane of ’38 you could still sense their awe and fear, even decades after the devastation.

Hurricane Carol in ’54 wiped away the tiny beachfront cottage my parents rented for a week every summer. They never stopped speaking of it wistfully. There was also pain because what was built in its stead was exclusive and far too rich for their middle class pocketbook. In that little cottage they had felt rich. After Carol they felt far poorer.

In 2011 we travelled to Rhode Island for my aunt’s funeral during the Halloween Blizzard. The next morning, in the dazzling sunlight, we held our petite grandniece Bella in her oversized lamb costume. We then drove home to more than a foot of heavy wet snow and a house without power.

The Easter/April Fools Blizzard was in 1997. I know that because 1972 plus 25 equals 1997. The math matters because some loved ones were on the verge of divorcing, while some unaware family members were planning a silver anniversary party for them. Some painful conversations are forever tied to a glorious spring day accented with mountainous snowbanks.

The Ice Storm of 2008 was partly memorable for being without power for almost seven full days along with the purchase of our generator. But it is also tied to the kindness and generosity we experienced. Our niece called and invited us to come stay with her. Neighbors piled into a pick up truck and methodically cleared our road by hopping out and chainsawing downed trees, thereby making it passable.

Hurricane Hanna in 2008 was the backdrop and backstory to our niece’s wedding. The horizontal rain, mops deployed to keep the dance floor dry and the brief and perfectly timed lull in the storm which allowed photographers to capture the exuberant joy of their love is what I will never forget.

These storms are shared experiences. They are markers on our life timelines. Well beyond their powerful meteorology, each of them is bound up with stories and people and memories. They tie us together. They remind us we are strong. We are hardy. We are resilient. We are connected.

One House

The house at the end of our street was torn down. We heard a few different versions of how the lovely, mid-nineteenth century farmhouse had been abandoned or maybe the folks had moved away because of work or perhaps the wife had gotten sick or, well, it didn’t really matter. Gradually, the house fell into disrepair.

A silly woman called it haunted which was disrespectful of a house that was simply full of memories and sounds (laughter; tears; muddy boots stomped on the porch; mice scurrying in the walls) and smells (strong coffee; wet wool, roast turkey; lilacs) and seasons upon seasons of children and pets and young couples and widows and widowers.

Even after people and animals stopped living there, our neighbor and friend continued to hay the fields every summer. He plowed the driveway in the winters until the shed, that doubled as the garage, slowly gave in to the snow load on its punctuated roof.

Word went round town that the house would finally be sold. We heard it was part of an estate and we felt a sadness at the distant loss. Our friend and neighbor made an offer, then another. But a fellow from out of town swept in, made his case and met the price. Before the truth of it all could even circulate, the man had a crew in who wrapped the place up in yellow caution tape; harvested the gold in the form of mouldings and chestnut beams; stripped it bare he did.

Then the chug of a tractor in the field was replaced with the sound of more fearsome equipment, as the big machines pushed and pulled; strained, shattered and finally felled the once fine old home. The sound was terrible; rending in its truest form; a kind of keening that wrenched your heart. Bricks crumbled; joists snapped; horsehair plaster and lath rained down and the dust rose up in clouds. Smoke from the funeral pyre and all the sounds and smells and memories from a century and a half of living went with it.

The corner is empty now. They filled the cellar hole and smoothed it over in a sort of slap-dash way so you can still see the ruts the big treaded tires made. Spring came early after a worrisomely warm and dry winter. A plucky little forsythia burst open in a yellow cascade at the foot of what was once the front walk. I’m hoping the lilac near where the old shed stood does the same in a few weeks; flowers at the grave of an old friend.

A History of the Sky

I came across this video over on My Jewish Learning. As I watched it, I first found it interesting, then fascinating and ultimately quite calming. It has a lovely meditative quality about it.

It really is best viewed as large as possible and with the highest resolution.

Enjoy!

Quixotic Me - Yet Again

Fall behind.
Sigh.
Yes, I do recognize the futility of my quest to put an end to the artificial and arbitrary manipulation of our time. But a girl can dream can’t she, however impossible that dream might be? ;o)

Here’s my post from March 2007:

The U.S. has begun Daylight Saving Time (DST) weeks earlier this year. The stated rationale is an attempt to save more energy. I don’t buy it. I also don’t like it. Considering how long humans have been keeping time, DST having been implemented for less than a century, is still a relatively new practice.

Unfortunately, once it caught on in Europe it spread pretty quickly. I realize I’m tilting at windmills, but I wish they would just let nature take its course. Over the last couple of months, since the winter solstice, we have been appreciating the gradual, gentle, generosity of the lengthening of the days. We all notice it. We all appreciate it. Come June, and the summer solstice, we will watch the days wind down equally gently, causing us to cherish twilight, fireflies and that startling first chill in a summer night’s air.

I’m no anarchist. I believe in good government, fair taxes and sensible laws. But I really wish the U.S. government would put more attention and resources into alternative, renewable energy sources and leave my clocks, my days alone.

Hurray!

We have power back!
This evening our little corner of the universe was reconnected to the grid. To ice the cake, we even got cable back. We’re happy that we were able to take care of ourselves and be self sufficient. But normal feels very good.

A Related Post: Please bury your power lines.

Schoodic

With a beautiful day forecast we headed over to the Schoodic Peninsula and more of Acadia National Park. Perhaps because it was a Sunday it was a bit “crowded” - meaning we didn’t have the entire park to ourselves! The National Park Service made some improvements over the summer. The most important of which, from a very practical standpoint, is that they now have a universal access restroom open year round. Why yes it IS the little things that matter most! It’s located on the ride out to Schoodic Point, at the entrance to the former Naval base, now converted to the “Schoodic Education and Research Center”, part of the National Park Service. Because we travel to Maine in the shoulder seasons, all of the restrooms on Schoodic are usually closed. While it’s just a “one-holer”, this state of the art, ecologically sound facility was a pleasure. Now I want one of those nifty instant response water heaters in my house!

A Liter Of Light

Two minutes of your time will open your eyes to an incredibly clever idea! Originally created by students at MIT (Massachusetts Institute of Technology), these Solar Bottle Bulbs are now helping people in poor communities in the Philippines.



Find more information at the Isang Litrong Liwanag (A Liter of Light) website.

You can follow the 1LitrongLiwanagTeam on Twitter.

And you can “like” A Liter of Light on FaceBook.

Dear National Grid, NSTAR, et al

Thank you.
Thank you for all your long hours and hard work.
Special thanks to the linemen who go out in all sorts of miserable and dangerous conditions so that our lives can be easier and safer.
And thank you for restoring power to my nieces’ homes after Irene left them in the dark.

Now I’d like a word with management.

Please bury your power lines.

Seriously.
Your infrastructure is aging.
Your lines and poles are vulnerable.
I know because during the ice storm of December 2008 our power was out for 157 hours - nearly seven days.
Because of Hurricane Irene more than seven million homes and businesses lost power.

Is burying the power lines expensive?
Damn straight it’s expensive.
But so is the cost to homeowners, businesses, insurance companies, municipalities and the utility companies themselves when power lines come crashing down under the weight of ice or the fierce power of hurricanes.
Isn’t burying power lines complicated by all of the coordination with municipalities?
Yup.
Will burying the power lines keep us from ever losing power?
Nope.
Will burying the power lines help?
Damn straight.

Sincerely,

Lee/Pink Granite

Further information:
Article in the Christian Science Monitor
Underground 2020
Interview on NPR
Q & A at Renewable Energy World

They Did It Up Brown!

There seemed to be two major camps in advance of the Royal Wedding. Either you were eagerly anticipating the event or you were seeking a complete media blackout until the couple was off on their honeymoon. I fell into the first camp. Unlike many here in the States, I did not set the alarm for 4:00 a.m. and have tea and scones at the ready as the festivities began. But the first thing I did upon awakening was find the best television coverage I could. I had hoped nothing untoward would mar the day. I had hoped that Kate’s dress would be stunning and completely unlike Will’s late mother’s gown. I had hoped that from start to finish the entire wedding and reception would have all the pageantry required, without tipping over into insensitive excess. Lastly, I had hoped that the vows would go smoothly, simply without the tangling of the order of names which had always stood out for me as such a troubling omen for Diana and Charles.

I was rewarded on every count. Most importantly, all the sincere romantic bits put me in mind of every other beautiful wedding I have ever attended - including when Chuck and I got married in our tiny living room almost twenty years ago! Will and Kate looked both happy and excited, while also seeming wonderfully settled and at ease with one another. I particularly loved all their quiet little exchanges. The dress was perfectly fabulous. The vows were lovely with nary a misstep. Their two kisses on the balcony at Buckingham Palace were certifiably adorable. The best surprise was Will and Kate driving off in that gorgeous Aston Martin Volante with Will at the wheel. The cherry on top? The fact that the Volante runs on E85 bioethanol, made from "English wine wastage"!

There are many anti-royalists in Great Britain and beyond. As an American, whose revered founding fathers threw off the crown, I have little right to speak. But it’s my blog so I shall! Without the Royal Family, without all of the trappings of the monarchy, Great Britain would be diminished. We give Great Britain all due credit for the seeds of our democracy and our jurisprudence system. But over the last century, Great Britain’s global influence has evolved and its “holdings” have decreased. If the British monarchy were abolished, Great Britain would eventually become just a unique political structure; England just another country. Despite all of the Royal Family’s occasional shenanigans and embarrassments, they continues to convey a valuable cachet outside of the realm. And I have to believe that cachet consistently translates into tourist cash.

That concludes the editorial portion of this post!

I am very happy that we were witness yesterday to such a delightful, charming and beautiful wedding. I wish the newly minted Duke and Duchess of Cambridge every happiness. When the day comes that William becomes King, I hope that they serve sensibly and consciously; with the same grace, good humor - and environmental friendliness they showed yesterday!

A Place To Start

Ever since the BP oil disaster began in the Gulf of Mexico, I have felt overwhelmed by it. The can-do, girly-girl solution side of me wanted to rig up something involving a giant funnel, a long hose, some duct tape and wrestle the gushing catastrophe into submission. As days turned into weeks I began to despair. I still have no idea when the engineers and scientists will either control and capture the gushing oil or somehow stop it from flowing into the Gulf and damaging or destroying everything in its ever enlarging sprawl.

In the meantime - and I fear for a long, long time to come - people and animals and the Earth need help. Charity Navigator has assembled a list of where we can “Make A Donation To Help Threatened Wildlife, Impacted Ecosystems And Damaged Economies”.
It’s a place to start.

Flatbread

If you’re ever in Portland, Maine give Flatbread Company a whirl for lunch or dinner. They’re on Commercial Street, right on the water and convenient to a parking garage and the ferry terminal. When we went on our rocking chair adventure to Freeport last month, we stopped there for dinner on our way home. Yum! They have a simple menu: salads, flatbread pizzas and a couple of desserts. Oh but they do it all quite well. Their philosophy is focused on “local organic produce, free range and clean meats. All of our major ingredients are made in house and cooked in a wood fired cauldron or in a hand built wood burning earthen oven.” We were seated near that oven and enjoyed a fascinating, well choreographed floor show as the food traveled from the open kitchen, into the huge oven and off to the diners.

We started with their mesclun salad - mine with goat cheese, Chuck’s with blue. The house vinaigrette was surprisingly mild, but the cheese added some zip, making it all work and play well together. Our flatbread included the homemade pepperoni which was meaty, classically flavored and had a nice spicy kick to it. The crust was thin, well cooked, but with just the right amount of chewiness and yeasty goodness about. We both agreed the pizza had “good bones”.

Our waiter wrapped up our leftover pizza in foil in the shape of a swan, but also told us about the desserts. We had already seen a few of the brownies being warmed in the pizza oven prior to service, so sharing the brownie sundae was an easy sell. It was scrumptious - warm, fudgey on the inside and a teensy bit crunchy on the edges. Topped with vanilla ice cream and resting on a puddle of chocolate sauce - yeah - you wouldn’t have liked it! Nope, not one bit.

For folks here in Massachusetts they have restaurants in Amesbury, Bedford and a new one to open soon in Somerville. Plus there are two locations in New Hampshire, one in Connecticut and one in Hawaii. That last one is a bit of a schlep, but I hear Maui is awfully pretty!

Lust In My Heart

I held and touched an iPad today.

Oh my, my, my! It is an extremely good thing that neither Chuck nor I are early adopters of technology!

And if I need help keeping my lust under control, I will read this - again!

Sizzle?

Our car is in the shop for an overnight visit. As a result we’re driving a loaner. The loaner is a 2010 Subaru Outback. Yes, the dealership is openly trying to tempt us. But there are a few problems. One: we love our current 2002 Subaru Outback. Two: our current Outback is a station wagon and the 2010 incarnation is most decidedly an SUV. The 2010 is actually on the steroidal side of the ledger. I’m about 5’9” and when I went to exit the vehicle, my feet did not touch the ground! Three: Subaru is still not offering a hybrid or all electric vehicle. They have concept cars aplenty, but nothing scheduled to hit the U.S. streets until 2012. I appreciate they want to get it right, but tick-tock. Four: The 2010 model is still nimble, peppy and comfortable, but none of the new design features or bells and whistles on the loaner totally knocked our socks off. (Well, the electric lumbar adjustment was pretty nifty!) Admittedly, it is a little (a little) like when Paul Newman was asked why he was faithful to Joanne Woodward he said: “Why fool around with hamburger when you have steak at home?”

So, with any luck at all, we’ll be returning the “hamburger” tomorrow and driving off in a healthy 2002 Outback “steak”!

Perfect

It’s dark.
But there is enough light from the moon to see the silhouettes of the islands in the bay.
I can hear the waves lapping gently against the shoreline.
I can hear a bell buoy ringing.
I can hear a what might be a fog horn far in the distance.
And occasionally, just often enough to lift your spirits, I can hear a loon call.

The air is cool and crisp, even this close to the water.
The temperature is in the 40sF (5C), but I can’t bear to close the door and block out the beautiful sounds.

Yes, we’re back in Maine.

New Beginnings

We are tired but happy. We shared a fun Easter dinner down in Rhode Island with the family this afternoon. Driving down Route 295 we could see the Warwick Mall, thankfully no longer under water, but with an uncertain date to reopen. The sandbags piled along the sides of roadways was unsettling and a clear reminder on a gorgeous, sunny day of how much destruction had been wrought less than a week ago.

Now we are back home, watching the Boston Red Sox play the New York Yankees on opening day night at Fenway Park. Yes, I want the Red Sox to win. But mostly I am just tickled pink both teams are putting on one heck of a good show! Baseball is back in full swing (puns be damned) and that is a very good thing!


: : Update: Final Score: Red Sox 9, Yankees 7

So good, so good, so good!

On Neighbors

Clearly, I am not cut out for condominium living.

I grew up in a household which respected and valued privacy. It was good to be neighborly, but important never to be intrusive. Neighbors who felt and behaved similarly were prized. Those operating from an opposite view of the world were to be politely but firmly discouraged. (The neighbor who waltzed in on my grandmother while she was taking a bath and sat down on the toilet seat to chat, was a favorite cautionary tale from my childhood!)

I speak with my mother nearly every day. During the majority of those phone calls, she mentions some sort of neighborly nuisance, annoyance or frustration she has experienced in her condominium. Before Chuck and I moved to our present home in rural Massachusetts, we lived in a small house in a small city. From our back door I could see fourteen other homes. Before that house, we lived in Worcester. It was a neighborhood of tree lined streets with double deckers, triple deckers and single family homes. In college I managed through four years of dormitory life.

So it is not as if I have lived as a hermit. (Question: By definition, can hermits be married?) But after many years of living in more congested neighborhoods, when we moved to this house, I was delighted to not be able to lay eyes on a single neighbor’s house. Only in winter, when the trees had thoroughly shed their leaves, would our eyes be caught by a neighbor’s lights twinkling in the distance through the bare branches. It was peaceful.

In the first year we lived here, I walked over every part of our land with our elderly Siberian Husky by my side. The only times I was ever scared were when I was all alone out in the back acreage. I sometimes cross country skied by myself. If I took a tumble over a hidden obstacle, I would feel a flash of fear that I might be injured and no one would find me. And I occasionally was lonely. But the quiet, positive, independent aspects of life in the country, far outweighed any minor drawbacks.

We also quickly came to love the field across the road from our home. We herded cows that had strayed from their proper pastures back across it. In winter, we would snowshoe and cross country ski on it. On Sunday afternoons, our neighbors from up the road would ride their horses across the snow covered field; hooves kicking up white sprays which glittered in the icy sunshine. Summer into fall, the farmer from a couple of miles away would hay the field. It was that ritual which inspired the poem I was fortunate to have published. So it came as a bit of a surprise when we learned that our elderly neighbor was dividing up his land into buildable lots and giving them to his children. The shock came when some of the children put for sale signs up on the field. We inquired, but the prices were prohibitive, especially to purchase a field we would keep as a field.

Now there is a house being built across the road from us. It’s a lovely building. Chuck met the owners shortly after the foundation was poured and the frame was erected. He found them friendly and cheerful. But they are neighbors. They are in our sightline. There is a house in that field. It did not fall from the sky like Dorothy’s after the tornado. But something is slipping away; something has already been lost.

I don’t blame the new neighbors. They fell in love with same field we did. They must appreciate this small town with its good school system and just enough amenities to make life convenient. They may not yet know that the pond down the hill has peepers that cheer us through the warming spring nights. They may not yet know that Canada Geese and crows glean the field. Next autumn, when they have been well settled in their new home, they will hear those geese honk as they lift off from the pond and practice their great V formations in the sky. Next spring, the new neighbors will hear the Phoebes call when they return and see them light on posts and branches, tails bobbing before they dive to grab an insect for a meal. Perhaps as soon as late this summer, they will watch crimson sunsets from their front porch. The same porch I think they will eventually screen when they become more familiar with how bountiful our mosquitoes are around here. They may lie in their bed, just about to drift off to sleep and suddenly hear the distinct hoot of an owl or the rising howls of coyotes - either of which can send a chill through you. If they do as we once did, they will learn that a bird feeder left up too long into spring is an attractive snack for bears with dreadful and destructive table manners. And maybe this winter, they will walk all around their new land, looking at bushes and trees; following tracks and scat in icy sunshine and get to know and love their field.

Rebates & Experiments

The hunt for and research about a new washing machine continues. The other day my niece Kate recommended looking for rebates. At that point I couldn’t find anything on the MassSave website. But since then, Vice President Joe Biden helped Chuck find these relevant rebates which include washing machines! There are rules and it’s first come, first served, but it’s worth a look.

We also took the plunge on a new laundry detergent. (Shocking, I know!) We bought Trader Joe’s HE Liquid Laundry Detergent. I’ve used it only twice. None of the clothes were particularly grungy to begin with and all came out fine. The TJ’s detergent is scented with lavender. But once the clothes were rinsed, (even) I could detect absolutely NO fragrance! I’ll keep you posted...