when life hands you sumac, make pink lemonade

I went walking on a newly established set of trails in Marstons Mills last weekend. The Danforth Trails start on Race Lane, wind under the road, behind the airfield, and then head west through an amazing sumac grove and fields before meeting up with trails in Otis Atwood and West Barnstable Conservation areas.

The Sumac grove is magical because you're able to walk under the canopy and feel like your'e a kid all over again. The young plants come up with pink fuzzy stems which I found really charming, and later in the season you can use the flower heads to make a sort of pink lemonade. Find the recipe here.

You can see photos of the walk on my flickr photo page.

fourth

When I was in fifth grade, I wrote my only patriotic poem (this was 1967, in California, right before I fell under the spell of the peace movement.) It started, embarrassingly, like this:

Give me liberty or give me death,
Said Patrick Henry from his royal breath,
He talks about the Battle of Bunker Hill,
O when, O when, O when will the battle ever stop.
If we wish to be free we must fight,
Don't just stand there and say you might,
Stand up and say you WILL,
fight the Battle of Bunker Hill.

Oh dear. It went on for several more stanzas in an equally 5th grade sort of way.

Anyway, like many Americans born of a certain generation, I struggle with the concept of patriotism. Every year on the 4th of July, I get great pleasure watching our little village parades, and seeing the fireworks, and gathering together with people I love. But I still feel conflicted by the references to US military-might and American swagger.

I feel like these little girls in the Barnstable Village parade yesterday worked out a happy balance:

In a sea of red white and blue, this girl marched in the parade wearing yellow.



Or this girl, who did the whole red, white, blue (and pink) thing, but wore her peace sign necklace. Also, for her, it was mostly about the candy.


See more parade pictures and other recent photos on my flickr photostream.

wings and things

I took a tour of the West Barnstable cemetery last week on one of the only days we've had recently where the sun peeked out for a few hours. This graveyard has lots of vintage gravestones dating back to the early 1700s, including quite a few with beautiful carvings of winged heads or angels.

Afterward I stopped by the West Barnstable train station -- it is open for business on weekends and people can take scenic train tours of Cape Cod. It was filled with wonderful old things. The two gentleman working that day, hearing that I've been known to take pictures in bathrooms, were proud to show me their vintage urinal, recently restored.




For a slideshow of photos from the cemetery & railroad station, click here.

epilogue

After the disappearance of our little blue jay family, I moved the nest out of its exposed location in the rhododendron bush and put it on the deck as a reminder of the few weeks when we were witness to the birth of the babies. Since then I've gone out several times and noticed that it's been moved around and the twigs scattered. First I blamed it on teenage boys (sorry Nick) and then squirrels. Then this morning I got my answer:





So -- the blue jays are recycling the old nest, and are building another one somewhere in the neighborhood, hopefully far away from predators this time. Hope springs eternal.

Related posts:

• sad
• hope is a thing with feathers
• happy birthday
• expecting
  

anchors aweigh

I went to a meeting at the U.S.S. Constitution Museum at the Charlestown Navy Yard today. I was hurrying into the meeting to escape the rain, and as I passed by the ship I heard the sailors on board singing "Anchors Aweigh." I could just glimpse them through a little porthole, and I stood in the rain until they finished their song. After the meeting (and the rain) was over, I came back out and captured a few images. See more here.