A day late posting the weekly, but, hey, I think a colonoscopy is a great excuse for not hitting this particular self-imposed deadline. It was a busy week even before that momentous event, so read on…
I spent the weekend in Boston, and I still think of it as my “forever home” even though I’ve not lived there since 2000. I did live there twelve years, enough time for it to sink into my bones and feel as if I am coming home whenever I visit.
I was staying in a hotel close to the action, which included the counter-protest march against the white supremacists who decided it might be a good idea to rally on the Common. In the end, I liked this summary of the event the best: “New England patriots 15,000, Neo-Nazis: 100. Boston wins again.”
I was one of the 15,000 patriots, letting my voice be counted as standing for love and against hatred. This is my country and I’m not going down without a fight.
The other highlight of my weekend was the Red Sox v. Yankees game at Fenway. I hadn’t been to a game here in two decades, so I was most delighted by the championship banners. The whole time I lived in Boston, the Sox and Pats were on long losing streak and being a fan was an exercise in patience and disappointment, so seeing these flags and then watching the Sox beat the Yankees made my Sunday!
Back to Cape Cod on Monday, where I witnessed 70% totality of the solar eclipse (cool enough I want to see the full thing in 2024) and then finally gave up my cushy driveway surfing spot for a place at an RV park in Brewster.
The beach is a mile walk and halfway there is a cool old cemetery from the 1700s. I really enjoy photographing cemeteries, the older, the better.
The beach itself was excellent, and it was low tide, so lots of families were out on the tide flats, exploring. I love seeing that.
And to end the post, a photo I really liked from that beach walk. The shell caught my eye, so I snapped it, but the iPhone camera kind of took it to a whole different level with the little stones. (It’s worth zooming in if you’re reading this on a tiny screen!)
Living is a form of not being sure, not knowing what next or how. The moment you know how, you begin to die a little. The artist never entirely knows. We guess. We may be wrong, but we take leap after leap into the dark.
Agnes de Mille