Greetings from North of Boston

I had a great maritime Saturday in Salem and Revere north of Boston, seeing ships and at the beach! The Salem Maritime National Historical Park was having its Heritage Days festival, with people demonstrating historic crafts like aspects of shipbuilding, lace-making, furniture carving, and traditional cooking, plus there was a band singing sea shanties and a Cardboard Boat Regatta which I'd thought meant people tossing models into the water but was actually cardboard boats crewed by several people in a race. 

There were food trucks (Paul got fried Twinkies) and since Salem's tall ship the Friendship is being restored, Pride of Baltimore II was visiting and letting people tour the deck. We had brought a picnic and ate it at a table behind the Custom House, which was also open for tours and had an actor dressed as Nathaniel Hawthorne talking about his work there. We got to see the scales and measuring equipment, the public stores for items no one could pay duties on, and the original wooden eagle that adorned the roof. 

Since we were in Salem, we also visited several of the witch shops -- lots of Tarot, crystals, herbs, crafts, and statues, though I didn't buy any -- and walked through the downtown before driving in the late afternoon to Revere Beach. The water was much warmer than I expected and there were clam shells, mussels, and some snails, plus many seagulls and a few pigeons looking for dinner. We were at the nearly empty north end of the beach and I got so much sand in my toes that I rode the rest of the way home barefoot.

 

We ate cheesesteaks for dinner and watched part of the terrible horrible Orioles game against the Phillies before giving up and putting on the start of the second season of A Good Girl's Guide To Murder, which is pretty well written and acted but very dark. And we discovered that the rain last week stained one of our windowsills, so we cleaned that up. Now I must sleep after a really nice day!

Poem for Friday and Old Sturbridge Shop

General Store 

By Rachel Field 

Someday I'm going to have a store

With a tinkly bell hung over the door,

With real glass cases and counters wide

And drawers all spilly with things inside.

There'll be a little of everything:

Bolts of calico; balls of string;

Jars of peppermint; tins of tea;

Pots and kettles; and crockery;

Seeds in packets; scissors bright;

Kegs of sugar, brown and white;

Sarsaparilla for picnic lunches,

Bananas and rubber boots in bunches.

I'll fix the window and dust each shelf,

And take the money in all myself,

It will be my store and I will say:

"What can I do for you today!"

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I spent part of Friday putting together a waterproof storage box for our deck furniture cushions and a lot of time in the garage tracking down the box with the second bedroom couch covers and pillows, aided by getting rid of some more boxes to a British expat I met on Nextdoor's marketplace. Now we just need to build another bookcase and maybe a display case for upstairs plus some big plastic shelving units for the garage, and finish unpacking all the various boxes currently filling up the space behind the car. 

It was nice out while I was putting together the storage box, but turned chilly by the time we took a walk and was raining before we got back, visited by the bunny. Before dinner we saw the Maryland women win their first round in the NCAA tournament, and after dinner we watched Wicked: For Good, which is streaming on Peacock now. Tomorrow we're going back to Sturbridge Village for a Celtic festival but here are photos of Asa Knight's 1838 local and global import general store from when we were there earlier this month:

Poem for Wednesday and The British Pantry

The New Year 

By Carrie Williams Clifford 

The New Year comes—fling wide, fling wide the door

Of Opportunity! the spirit free

To scale the utmost heights of hopes to be,

To rest on peaks ne’er reached by man before!

The boundless infinite let us explore,

To search out undiscovered mystery,

Undreamed of in our poor philosophy!

The bounty of the gods upon us pour!

Nay, in the New Year we shall be as gods:

No longer apish puppets or dull clods

Of clay; but poised, empowered to command,

Upon the Etna of New Worlds we’ll stand—

This scant earth-raiment to the winds will cast—

Full richly robed as supermen at last!

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Paul only had to work half a day on Wednesday, so in the afternoon we went to the British Pantry -- a restaurant and British food store connected to the Three Lions Pub -- for afternoon tea (and scones, cake, fruit, and several British cheeses). Then we walked along the Sammamish River Trail while the sun was setting to see the waterfowl and the moon. We also stopped at Trader Joe's because we were out of pita, hummus, and various snacks.

 

We weren't very hungry after tea, so we ate some hummus and pita for dinner. Then we watched The Princess Bride, which we've both been in the mood for since Rob Reiner died -- it's one of those rare movie that completely holds up to memory, even after years of seeing it parodied at Renfaires. Now we're watching Bride and Prejudice, because it's a Jane Austen-based Bollywood musical and therefore full of joy. Happy New Year and best wishes for 2026!

Poem for Wednesday and Glen Echo Trains

The Children's Hour 

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 

Between the dark and the daylight,

      When the night is beginning to lower,

Comes a pause in the day’s occupations,

      That is known as the Children’s Hour.

I hear in the chamber above me

      The patter of little feet,

The sound of a door that is opened,

      And voices soft and sweet.

From my study I see in the lamplight,

      Descending the broad hall stair,

Grave Alice, and laughing Allegra,

      And Edith with golden hair.

A whisper, and then a silence:

      Yet I know by their merry eyes

They are plotting and planning together

      To take me by surprise.

A sudden rush from the stairway,

      A sudden raid from the hall!

By three doors left unguarded

      They enter my castle wall!

They climb up into my turret

      O’er the arms and back of my chair;

If I try to escape, they surround me;

      They seem to be everywhere.

They almost devour me with kisses,

      Their arms about me entwine,

Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen

      In his Mouse-Tower on the Rhine!

Do you think, O blue-eyed banditti,

      Because you have scaled the wall,

Such an old mustache as I am

      Is not a match for you all!

I have you fast in my fortress,

      And will not let you depart,

But put you down into the dungeon

      In the round-tower of my heart.

And there will I keep you forever,

      Yes, forever and a day,

Till the walls shall crumble to ruin,

      And moulder in dust away!

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I had a busy, chatty Wednesday, first with all three of my good high school friends -- one had computer issues and one had snow, but everyone made it to chat, though I saw two of them and the daughter of the third when I was in Maryland last week -- and then, after lunch, with Kristen and Laurie before watching the first hour of the extended edition of The Return of the King. 

We took a walk in the late afternoon (it's already dark before 5 p.m., boo) but the geese and ducks were at the beach, and after Indian food for dinner, we watched Secrets of Great British Castles, which was very enjoyable, though it reminded me that it's been too many years since I've been to the UK. Here are photos from Brookside Gardens' train show, which has a recreation of old Glen Echo Park:

Poem for Tuesday and Gene Coulon Park Birds

A Leaf For Hand In Hand 

By Walt Whitman 

A leaf for hand in hand!

You natural persons old and young!

You on the Mississippi, and on all the branches and bayous of the Mississippi!

You friendly boatmen and mechanics! You roughs!

You twain! And all processions moving along the streets!

I wish to infuse myself among you till I see it common for you to walk hand in hand!

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Finally no rain! Tuesday was overcast but mostly pretty, a bit chilly; I did chores in the morning, answered some mail, then we had lunch and walked to the beach before my Tuesday DS9 group (lots of lovely chat before we watched "Whispers" which isn't the best episode in terms of pacing but has a great performance by Colm Meaney, who often doesn't get enough to do besides align power couplings and argue with Rosalind Chao. 

We watched the second episode of The American Revolution, which is intense and often upsetting, around the season finale of The Morning Show. The latter wrapped certain storylines up a little neatly but I appreciated the way the characters I care about most were written, and the performances were great (I have really learned to appreciate Jennifer Aniston). Some of the variety of waterfowl on Lake Washington at Gene Coulon Park:

Poem for Monday and North Jetty Animals

Once By The Pacific 

By Robert Frost 

The shattered water made a misty din.

Great waves looked over others coming in,

And thought of doing something to the shore

That water never did to land before.

The clouds were low and hairy in the skies,

Like locks blown forward in the gleam of eyes.

You could not tell, and yet it looked as if

The shore was lucky in being backed by cliff,

The cliff in being backed by continent;

It looked as if a night of dark intent

Was coming, and not only a night, an age.

Someone had better be prepared for rage.

There would be more than ocean-water broken

Before God's last Put out the light was spoken.

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Monday was another cool, pretty day -- though it's supposed to be over 85 tomorrow, boo -- and I enjoyed it when I wasn't doing laundry, sorting photos, and similar Monday stuff. The internet is still a shitshow, so I took refuge in Tolkien memes when I wasn't reading about Sylvia Beach and catching up on entertainment news about the Emmys and Jewish celebrities who aren't apologists for antisemites (don't worry, Hannah, I'm sure they'll put you in the oven with the Good Jews, not the Israelis, and I won't miss watching the last season of Hacks). 

Kristen has work late Wednesday, so we watched the end of The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes today. In the afternoon we walked to the beach, which is quiet now that the kids are back in school except for the ducks. We got home in time for the Orioles game, which they won while we ate dinner. Our evening has been mostly Miss Scarlet with a break for the new Only Murders in the Building, in which Renee Zellwegger is chewing scenery as the love child of Martha Stewart and Gwyneth Paltrow this season. Animals at Ocean Shores' North Jetty:

Poem for Tuesday and Fair Fowl

The County Fair 

By Edwin Carty Ranck 

Oh, let's go out to the county fair

And breathe the balmy country air,

And whittle a stick and look at the hosses,

Discuss the farmer's profit and losses.

We'll take a look at the country stock

And drink some milk from a dairy crock;

Look at the pigs and admire the chickens,

And try to forget it's hot as the dickens.

Forget there are any political rings

Just think of the butter and eggs and things;

So wash off the buggy and hitch up the mare,

And we'll all go out to the county fair.

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Tuesday felt like a Monday and involved computer work, laundry, and the like. We had nice weather -- it was supposed to get hot again, but it was overcast and cool all morning, so only in the mid-70s by the time we walked to the beach in the afternoon. My DS9 group watched "Invasive Procedures" which is not a particularly great episode but has enjoyable guest stars (John Glover!) and is well-paced for a claustrophobic bottle show. 

We ate our leftovers from Taste Of Hyderabad for dinner, which remained excellent and we still have a bit of gongura paneer biryani to finish. The Mariners game ended badly, after which we watched this week's superb mini-movie episode of Alien: Earth, and now we're watching more Miss Scarlet and the Duke, though I gather he doesn't take this job in Glasgow. Here are some of the birds we saw at the Evergreen State Fair yesterday: