goatee

°22.03.13.Sun | Gulf Coast Sunset

Something that tickles me, as a New Englander, is an aquatic sunset.

°21.09.07.Tue | North Shore, South Shore

This labor day weekend, we got a car and explored the coast around Boston.

On Saturday, we explored the North Shore and happened across Gerry Island, for which there is a path when the tide is out.

Monday, we explored the South Shore, and enjoyed the rocky beach of Webb Memorial Park.

°21.06.21.Mon | Watermelon and mint soba

Summer time is a time of cold salads. For lunch I’m finishing yesterday’s improvised sesame soba with tofu, watermelon, and mint!

°21.02.20.Sat | Punx (Hair) Not Dead

As a young goth or punk, you learn to give yourself and friends haircuts. This past year takes me back: Nora, working from home, has been opting for edgier styles, and I’ve been implementing them with scissors and trimmers in hand.

°21.02.18.Thu | Returning to Old Dog Hill

Amidst the slushy doldrums of February I find myself thinking of a return to old dog hill.

The new extension of the old Cambridge library straddles a small hill. The rain sluices off, making for a comfortable and dry position from which to survey the park and its denizens.

When Casper was younger, we’d pass the hill on the way to the corner of the park where the dogs chase and wrestle. Casper had balls to snatch from the air and dogs to best in tug. We never gave the hill any thought until a middle-aged man and his old retriever became evening fixtures. He sat beside his Golden, idly petting her as she held a tennis ball in her whitened muzzle in remembrance of more active days. That’s when we took to calling it old dog hill.

After a few years, the man and his dog relinquished the hill. Shortly thereafter, we claimed the spot as our own.

Casper’s mid-air collisions and tug battles have left him with a bad back. Weather permitting, we sit on the hill, speaking to passersby, idly petting Casper, and tossing a ball every few minutes for him to leisurely fetch in remembrance of more active days.

We sometimes still see the man walking to the library, alone. And as he passes I wonder if he thinks as we once did, “there they are, on old dog hill.”

✽

How tug-crazy was Casper? Witness.

°20.12.14.Mon | Lunchtime sun at Breakheart Reservation

December lunch
the scarred winter sun
sits low but warm

°20.11.08.Sun | Breakheart Reservation Pond

°20.10.24.Sat | Masks in the alley

°20.09.27.Sun | Raising the flag at Powder House Park

°20.09.23.Wed | Mr. Neuman’s overhead projector

COVID19 has meant the end of many things. This bin of overhead projectors – displaced by fancy new “solstice pods” – made me think of my high school astronomy teacher, Mr. Nueman.

Sitting next to the glowing glass, with colored pens in hand, he illustrated his lectures on acetate sheets. I’ve yet to see this teaching technique rivaled.

What a privilege it was to have a small planetarium and astronomy teacher in high school!