Greetings from the Blackstone River Greenway

Quick post after Thursday night chat -- only three of us were there but it was delightful as always. My Thursday was fairly uneventful and involved chores and some computer cleanup, plus some reading, then a walk in drizzle when Paul got home (his morning train broke down and it took him over four hours to get to work). 

We did get to watch "Level Five Transporter Accident" (this week's awesome puppet episode of Strange New Worlds, so much fun) and the new episode of Stuart Fails To Save the Universe (pretty hilarious and directed by Jonathan Frakes). Here's some Worcester history from the Blackstone River Greenway Visitor Center:

Greetings from Fenway Park

We spent most of Sunday going to, attending, and coming home from the Red Sox game at Fenway Park! Unfortunately the home team lost, but it was otherwise a very enjoyable afternoon at the ballpark, from the pregame video to Neil Diamond's "America" to the eighth inning "Sweet Caroline" singalong. The game was tied 1-1 at that point after a Jarren Duran home run put them on the board, but unfortunately that was the only time the Red Sox scored, and it ended 3-1 in the 10th inning (which we did not witness, since we wanted to make the 5:10 train because the next one didn't leave till 6:45). 

We did get to see lots of other fun things though: a foul ball that could have hit me had the guy across the aisle not caught it (see photo); two different groups of Star Wars fans in costume, posing with attendees for Star Wars Day; NASA astronaut and local native Suni Williams throwing out the first pitch; the adorable Red Sox Grogu bobblehead giveaways; the "monstah" size slices of pizza we ate for lunch; the pregame baseball hype video to Neil Diamond's "America" (a song that's both very Jewish and very pro-immigrant); and the by-hand score changes, though the Yankees-Orioles endgame changes were not fun. 

 

There was a minor crisis when we left, since the train arrived on the track heading into Boston instead of going out and there was a stampede off the very crowded platform up the stairs and around and down. I thought I might get knocked over, and I was already not thrilled to be on a train platform with so many people. But it was a nice ride out of the city and we saw wild swans in one of the lakes. Tonight we watched Toast, which was kind of sad and weird but I liked it until the misogynistic ending, around the Watson finale, whose cancelation is a bummer but did not cliffhang as much as I expected.

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!

-------- 

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:

Greetings from Wheaton

We got up on Sunday just before the hotel breakfast ended. Adam came down to meet us, then he and Haley packed up Pepper and their things to drive to New England. So we said goodbye to them, then headed out to Brookside Gardens. The park is set up for the annual winter lights show and the train display in the conservatory, so although the lights weren't turned on while we were there, we got to see the trains and Glen Echo Park recreation as well as the remaining chrysanthemums and fall flowers. 

The weather was chilly but the rain had stopped, so we had an uncrowded afternoon. It was Pokemon Community Day, so I also caught many Pikipeks and evolved some shiny jewel-tone Toucannons before we headed to my parents' house, from which we all went to Gregorio's and met my friend Linda and her husband (who's my father's doctor too). My parents treated us all to dinner, after which we went back to their house for leftover Thanksgiving desserts (I was too full for more than a piece of mini pecan pie). 

Poem for Wednesday and Elbe Scenic Railroad

The Kingfisher 

By Amy Clampitt 

In a year the nightingales were said to be so loud

they drowned out slumber, and peafowl strolled screaming  

beside the ruined nunnery, through the long evening  

of a dazzled pub crawl, the halcyon color, portholed  

by those eye-spots' stunning tapestry, unsettled

the pastoral nightfall with amazements opening.

Months later, intermission in a pub on Fifty-fifth Street  

found one of them still breathless, the other quizzical,  

acting the philistine, puncturing Stravinsky — "Tell  

me, what <i>was</i> that racket in the orchestra about?" —

hauling down the Firebird, harum-scarum, like a kite,  

a burnished, breathing wreck that didn't hurt at all.

Among the Bronx Zoo's exiled jungle fowl, they heard  

through headphones of a separating panic, the bellbird  

reiterate its single <i>chong</i>, a scream nobody answered.  

When he mourned, "The poetry is gone," she quailed,  

seeing how his hands shook, sobered into feeling old.  

By midnight, yet another fifth would have been killed.

A Sunday morning, the November of their cataclysm  

(Dylan Thomas brought in <i>in extremis</i> to St. Vincent's,  

that same week, a symptomatic datum) found them  

wandering a downtown churchyard. Among its headstones,  

while from unruined choirs the noise of Christendom  

poured over Wall Street, a benison in vestments,

a late thrush paused, in transit from some grizzled  

spruce bog to the humid equatorial fireside: berry-

eyed, bark-brown above, with dark hints of trauma  

in the stigmata of its underparts — or so, too bruised  

just then to have invented anything so fancy,

later, re-embroidering a retrospect, she had supposed.

In gray England, years of muted recrimination (then  

dead silence) later, she could not have said how many  

spoiled takeoffs, how many entanglements gone sodden,  

how many gaudy evenings made frantic by just one  

insomniac nightingale, how many liaisons gone down  

screaming in a stroll beside the ruined nunnery;

a kingfisher's burnished plunge, the color  

of felicity afire, came glancing like an arrow  

through landscapes of untended memory: ardor  

illuminating with its terrifying currency

now no mere glimpse, no porthole vista

but, down on down, the uninhabitable sorrow.

-------- 

Wednesday was much cooler than Tuesday, a lovely August day. I chatted with my high school friends in the morning, we had eggwiches for lunch, then I did some work and watched the first half of The Hunger Games: Mockingjay with Kristen. After that, we took a walk to the beach -- the lake still has bacteria warnings -- and watched the Orioles-Mariners game; of course, now that I'm obliged to root against the Orioles so that the Mariners can make the postseason, the Orioles manage to win. We did order dinner from Ballard Pizza, which we first ate in T-Mobile Park a couple of weeks ago, and it was excellent. 

We saw the first two episodes of Alien: Earth, which so far has interesting characters and a great "eat the rich" scene, then more Poldark, which started well but then I feel like the writers spent too much time watching Outlander and started writing it more in line with that, to the detriment of the female characters and adversaries who are anything other than one-dimensional villains. On the way to and from Mount Rainier National Park, we drove through Elbe, home to the Mount Rainier Scenic Railroad and the Hobo Inn, where people can sleep in a caboose and eat dinner in the Mount Rainier Railroad Dining Co. car: 

Greetings from Tacoma

Saturday was a gorgeous day for being outdoors, so we went to Tacoma, where Glass Fest was taking place by the Museum of Glass and the Northwest Native Festival was taking place around the Washington State Historical Society and Tacoma Art Museum. We brought sandwiches to eat on the steps by the fountains, then walked around the tents with crafts by Indigenous artisans and glass for sale, some being lampworked right on the grounds. There was live music and dance near the train station and lots of boats at the waterfront. 

Since all the museums were free, we crossed the Bridge of Glass to see the Museum of Glass exhibits, including Field Notes: Artists Observe Nature and a collection of Nancy Callan's pop art and nature glass forms. We also went to Dressing the Gilded Age at the Historical Society, which is more about the impact clothing had on society and technology than about what people thought was pretty -- standard sizes were a Civil War military necessity, mechanized sewing machines made it possible to get children out of industry. 

We ended up at the art museum, which has Echoes of the Floating World, a collection of Japanese woodblock prints alongside works by contemporary Asian-American artists; Charles Peterson's extensive collection of photos of Nirvana and Kurt Cobain; a multimedia exhibit on Blackness; and a permanent Chihuly exhibit alongside other local artisans. There were spectacular views of the mountain all around Tacoma and on the highway driving home, where we arrived after stopping at Trader Joe's in time for the end of the Mariners game.

Poem for Friday and Edmonds Beach

I Saw From the Beach 

By Thomas Moore 

I saw from the beach, when the morning was shining,

  A bark o'er the waters move gloriously on;

I came when the sun o'er that beach was declining,

  The bark was still there, but the waters were gone.

And such is the fate of our life's early promise,

  So passing the spring-tide of joy we have known;

Each wave that we danced on at morning ebbs from us,

  And leaves us, at eve, on the bleak shore alone.

Oh, who would not welcome that moment's returning

  When passion first waked a new life through his frame,

And his soul, like the wood that grows precious in burning,

  Gave out all its sweets to love's exquisite flame.

-------- 

Friday was overcast and drizzly at times, so I did exciting indoor things like folding laundry and I read a big chunk of Embassytown, which is so good that I want to track down a copy of Jo Walton's Among Others to read next and find out how in heck it beat the former for the Hugo and Nebula Awards. We took a walk to the beach, saw several eagles, and watched the Orioles lose over dinner. 

We watched the first two episodes of Murderbot, which we enjoyed a lot (I didn't read the books so I had no expectations). Then, since we were on Apple TV, we watched the first three episodes of Your Friends & Neighbors, a solid entry in Eat the Rich TV and a role Jon Hamm was born to play. From the beach and marina in Edmonds last weekend, seals, boats, a train, flowers, and hazy mountain views: