Posted tagged ‘gorgeous day’

“The first rule of hurricane coverage is that every broadcast must begin with palm trees bending in the wind.”

August 25, 2017

Some mornings all the elements converge just right and the most gorgeous day dawns. Today is one of those mornings. The breeze is from the north, and I could smell the ocean when I was out with Gracie. Both of us stayed on the deck, not wanting to come inside. The smell of the salt water flooded my mind’s eye with familiar images. I saw the ocean with its tiny whitecaps hitting the sand. I saw the grasses atop the dunes dancing, blown by the slight breeze.

The morning air is cool today. Sharp sunlight glints through the trees hanging over the deck and leaves shadows of armlike branches. The small round mirrors hanging from the pine branches send a reflection of white circles bouncing around the side yard. The birds fly in and out, and I was glad I filled the feeders yesterday.

Today in all its glory needs to be savored.

I’m watching the news about Hurricane Harvey. I know what it’s like to dread the coming wind, rain and high water. I remember Hurricane Bob. It left trees across roads, wires hanging from split telephone poles and branches all over streets and yards. I lost a fir tree in my front yard, my second Christmas tree, but I still felt lucky because the tree fell away from the house. Stores were closed. I was without electricity for days. I cooked all of the freezer meat on the grill trying to save it. I drove all over to find ice. I couldn’t believe the damage I saw. It took a long while for the clean-up and for everything to get back to normal.

On August 25th 1954, two amazing events occurred. Hurricane Carol developed near the Bahamas and started its way toward New England. It would reach the coast days later, at the end of the month. Carol was devastating and deadly. Cape Cod was evacuated. More than 10,000 homes across New England were damaged including 1,545 that were completely destroyed. 3,000 boats and 3,500 automobiles were wrecked. Even Boston wasn’t spared. The wind sheared off the steeple of the Old North Church. Though I was only seven, I have memories of this storm. The giant, old elm tree across from my house went down and fell on the street making the road impassable. My father brought my brother and me outside during the eye of the hurricane to see the tree, and we climbed among the branches. I remember how still it was and how quiet.

The second amazing event was my sister Moe was born. Today she turns 63. She was under 5 pounds at birth so the hospital kept her until she gained more weight. That was the practice back then. She was still in the hospital when we lost electricity so we glad she was. By the time she came home, our house was back to normal.

My sister and Carol are forever joined in my memory.  That’s not to say they have anything in common except both were born on the same day.

“When asked by an anthropologist what the Indians called America before the white man came, an Indian said simply, ‘Ours.'”

October 12, 2015

Today is the best sort of a fall day. The sun is shining, it’s warm and the clear blue sky goes on forever. The leaves have started changing, and with the help of the wind, some have already fallen. My front lawn has touches of red lying on the grass blown from the trees along the driveway. Clumps of pine needles with chewed ends are strewn on the grass and the driveway. The spawns chew the clumps off the branches, drink the sap then toss the leftovers. I don’t ever remember seeing as many clumps.

Columbus Day meant the day off from school, but it was always the 12th, never a convenient Monday. Today is just happenstance. Schools, banks, town and federal offices including the post office are all closed.

I don’t know how to celebrate Columbus Day. All the other holidays are easy, each has a token, a symbol. Some even have traditional foods. I suppose we could eat Italian food in honor of Columbus having been a citizen of Genoa or considering he never really made it to the New World, we could eat Caribbean food, the closest he got. We could wear one of those silly hats he’s always pictured wearing. As for decorations, miniature ships with crosses on their sails could be on the Columbus Day table. That’s all I’ve got.

Now we come to the controversy as to whether or not we should celebrate Columbus, by most accounts a slaver guilty of genocide. He wiped out entire populations of indigenous people. He didn’t even find America, his one claim to fame. Protests against Chris are held every Columbus Day. In some places the day has been renamed Indigenous Peoples’ Day. Only 23 states still have the day as a holiday from work.

I used to like a day off in October. In truth, I didn’t care the reason.

I agree that Chris doesn’t deserve a whole day in his name. He really didn’t do anything worth recognition. Quite the opposite is true so I think it’s time to stop honoring him. We need to rethink the day.

“I believe in red meat. I’ve often said: red meat and gin.”

September 29, 2015

It seems I get later and later but for good reasons. This morning it was a long library board meeting to choose officers. The length of the meeting had little to do with the election of unopposed officers. No, it was mimosas and pastries and conversation which kept us late.

I’m running out of adjectives to describe this gorgeous weather. It is in the mid-70’s and sunny with a breeze strong enough to swing the chimes. Tomorrow they’ll be downpours and over 3 inches of rain according to the weatherman. Not a single person is complaining. We need the rain, and we have had our share, more than our share, of beautiful fall days.

Where I grew up, we called it tonic. Down here they call it soda. By either name, we seldom had any in the house when I was a kid, ginger ale maybe for an occasional highball, my parents’ favorite drink when I was young, but nothing else. We drank milk, a combination of white milk and chocolate milk, both delivered by the milkman. My mother used to drink Tab until Diet Coke came along. My father was always a milk drinker. He loved a cold glass of milk with his Hydrox cookies or his Pilot crackers topped with butter. He’d be devastated now as both his favorites are no longer made. He’d probably start eating Saltines but never Oreos, maybe Newman-O’s which remind me of Hydrox. My dad was most particular about his snacks.

We called my mother the seagull because of what she ate. Leftovers were her favorite breakfast, and sometimes she ate them cold in a sandwich, including hot dogs cut in half and down the middle. She’d rummage in the fridge, pullout the covered dishes and build herself a sandwich. Cucumbers were a favorite topping. She was also a mayonnaise fan far more than a mustard fan. My mother liberally applied the condiment. Even with toast the butter was slathered. Grilled cheese, according to her, was best at its messiest.

I eat all sorts of foods and will try almost anything when I’m traveling. I think that’s the seagull in me.

“Everybody likes a roller coaster ride.”

August 11, 2014

This morning I have already cleaned off the deck and filled the bird feeders. I also tried again to attach the fronds to my new palm tree, but they are just too heavy for me to hold with one hand and attach with the other. I’ll have to wait until Thursday when Lee and Roseana come to clean. Lee is always happy to help.

If you want to know the weather, check yesterday’s Coffee because it is the same today, the same gorgeous day. I see a deck day, and I also see a dump run as I have already loaded the car. Gracie will be glad. Weekends are no longer dump days as the traffic is lined up along the street to the dump and inside is a mad house. Mondays are quiet.

My front garden is beautiful so I’ll try to take some pictures today. I always wanted a garden filled with flowers, and this garden is exactly what I dreamed. Not being a gardener, it was hit or miss with the flowers I chose, but I did well. I noticed some bare spots and a bush is going to be moved this fall so next year I get to buy more flowers, perennials in the front. I’ll do a bit of research first then make my list. Some I may have to get on-line as rare flowers aren’t at the local garden shops. People tend to buy the familiar.

We never came down the cape when I was a kid. All our vacations were in Maine or Vermont. On weekends we went to local beaches on the North Shore. When I was really young, we went to Revere Beach. I remember aunts and uncles and cousins being there with us as well. I also remember the adults would take turns. Some would watch us while others would run across the street for a drink or two. Revere Beach back then had all sorts of food booths, bars, arcade games and rides. We kids never left the beach. There was always plenty to eat and drink from the various baskets. We’d whine and ask to go on a ride, but I can’t remember ever taking one though maybe we rode the merry-go-round, but that is a hazy memory at best.

When I was in high school, my friends and I would go to Revere Beach on a Friday or Saturday night. We’d buy sausage subs with peppers and onions and eat them as we walked along the boardwalk. We rode the roller coaster. I remember that roller coaster more than any other ride because when I was young I could see the top of the coaster from the highway on the way to visit my grandparents. It was a sign post of sorts as to where we were. I loved that old wooden coaster. I remember the anticipation and maybe a little fear as the roller coaster slowly climbed that first hill. I remember the sounds of the coaster. It made squealing noises around corners, the wheels clicked on the track for the whole ride and people always screamed, especially down that first hill. The brave ones didn’t hold on but raised both arms in the air in a show of bravado. I wasn’t one of them. I always held on.

SUNDAY The day..I planned a lot but actually do nothing.”

August 10, 2014

The Sunday of old is gone. Stores are now open, churches have far fewer people and Sunday dinners with the whole family around the table are a thing of the past. I loved that Sunday, except for the church part, but I have noticed the Sunday of today has become, in some ways, like that Sunday of my childhood. Not a single lawn mower breaks the Sunday morning quiet. The birds can be heard singing. My neighbor works every other day of the week, but today he’ll sit on his deck, chat with his family and later he’ll barbecue. He does the same thing every Sunday. That is, I’m thinking, the new definition of a family Sunday dinner: sitting on the deck enjoying each other’s company and barbecuing a chicken.

The day is gorgeous. I couldn’t invent a nicer day. The sun is bright and the morning is still cool. It will get warm today, in the high 70’s, but tonight will be cool again, down in the 60’s, and wonderful for sleeping. This is when I wish I had a tree house so I could sleep outside. I’ve already build one in my imagination. The walkway will be from the deck and will have rope sides and a wooden bottom for easy walking. It will jiggle a bit but still be safe. The treehouse will be big enough for a table, a couple of chairs and a day bed. There will be a tablecloth, a bit retro like the ones from the 50’s, and flowers in a vase on the table. The windows will have curtains; I’m thinking flowers. Below each window on the outside will be flower boxes filled with blossoms of all colors. The door and the windows will have screens which let in the night air but not the night bugs. I will fall asleep among the trees lulled by the songs of night birds.