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Posts Tagged ‘summer’

The little state with the big heart. Showing an intriguing old house in Providence, and island scenes in early morning and late afternoon.

This is the peaceful side of things, contrasting with the stories we just heard from an exhausted policeman we know who spent the last five days trying to control unruly 4th of July crowds, working from 5 a.m. to 11 p.m. “And we have only two cells to put them in,” he said in exasperation.

So hard to understand why, with all this beauty around them, people would do so much damage to themselves.

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Where I work, they try to treat employees a couple times a year to little parties. It doesn’t hurt. If you’re having a down day, you can always find something to like about the higher powers making the effort. The first photo shows a few employees at the Cape Cod-themed event on the garden floor of our building. On offer were music, mini golf, lobster sliders, watermelon-blueberry smoothies, and other summertime edibles.

I am also posting a real beach I visited last weekend, with lovely rosa rugosa all around the path. My other shots show the shadow of a bike on a sunny day in Fort Point, landscaping at a home on Beacon St., and an exotic flower in front of Barefoot Books, which does a nice job with plantings.

Asakiyume came for a visit, by the way, and we had lunch and a lovely chat. I will wait to get her permission to post a picture I took of her. But I can activate your visual imagination by telling you that the photo is from a walk in the woods, where Asakiyume spotted an elastic band between two trees and immediately realized someone must be trying to teach themselves tightrope walking. I would never have figured that out. The photo shows her testing her skill. Such a lovely metaphor for the multiple balancing acts we had just been discussing. Turns out it’s hard.

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Inside my neighbor’s lotus flower is something that looks like a shower head. I think I will make a new year’s resolution on it (the school year, say): “Because you can never imagine what’s inside the lotus, try to be alert to the subtext.”

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After a delightful morning with my granddaughter and my older grandson, I went to Providence to hang out with my younger grandson and Suzanne and a good friend.

I caught up with them at the park, where the farmers market was winding down and a free summer concert was revving up: the annual Summit Music Festival. (Check it out here.)

The four of us liked a blues group called the Selwyn Birchwood Band (pictured) and another band called Smith and Weeden. The ice cream eater below had reservations about a third performance. Everyone’s a critic.

We spent a chunk of time going “higher, higher” on the swing in the playground and watching a multi-ethnic group of small boys kick a soccer ball. (How brave it is to go up to boys you don’t know and ask to play!) We skipped the face painting, which was gorgeous but, to a 2-year-old, kind of pointless. We watched kids and grownups painting a mural wall.

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I’m not much of a world traveler although I always enjoy new places once I get there. I feel sufficiently challenged, though, just trying to see what is in front of me and delving into meanings.

I overheard two men who were walking in a shade-dappled lane this morning. They were discussing “operations” and the “lowest cost per month” and were consulting a smartphone. I’m not sure they saw much in front of them.

Not to be superior, I miss things, too. How many times have I come up out of the Porter Square subway station to cross the street and not noticed the bollards with the mysterious carvings? I’ve pasted three samples below.

A few more photos. Two sides of an especially nice paint job on the Painted Rock. A whole family brought their beach chairs and drinks to watch the artists among them paint the sunset, boats, and sea creatures and then photograph the art before someone painted over it with new messages. Which happened in a couple hours and involved much less style. But that’s OK — the rock is the billboard of pure democracy.

On another rock, one I had never noticed until early Saturday, please note directions to China.

Circling back to the “lowest cost” guys, when I got to the bend in the lane, they were gone. I was walking so much slower than they were.

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My winter resolution will have to be to find more photo ops when the world isn’t blooming. I’ll have to look harder for interesting shadows and shapes in a black & white world. In the meantime, I sure am enjoying summer picture taking.

The first photo is of a Little Free Library in the Greenway. (Check out the concept here.) Then there’s the Bookshop window. Can you read the funny signs? They say, “I don’t remember the title … but the cover was blue.”

Next is the herb garden behind the church and Doug Baker’s bonsai trees. He once gave a very young Suzanne and her friend Joanna little bonsai trees, admonishing them that the trees had to be as carefully tended as babies. (Alas, the girls were too young to tend babies.)

After the planter with the escaping petunias come flowering weeds and hydrangeas on my street.

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A few photographs. You’ll have to imagine the smell of honeysuckle and the bird calls.

Surfers took the red truck to the overlook to check the waves before the hurricane fringe hit, but they didn’t stay.

Can you read the sign at the garden supply store? Someone found it necessary to post under the hours, “Not open when closed.”

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Even though she lived in Paris for several years, Melita is frequently startled by how kooky and fun the French can be.

Today she told me she just learned that they’ve been making a Riviera-type beach along the Seine for the past 12 summers.

I checked out Wikipedia: “Paris-Plages … is a plan run by the office of the mayor of Paris that creates temporary artificial beaches each summer along the river Seine in the centre of Paris, and, since 2007, along the Bassin de la Villette in the northeast of Paris. Every July and August, roadways on the banks of the Seine are blocked off and host various activities, including sandy beaches and palm trees.” More here.

The mayor’s website notes, “The summer transforms Paris. The cityscape dons greenery and the riverside thoroughfares become car-free resorts. The Paris Plages (Paris Beaches) operation kicks off on or around 20 July and lasts four weeks.  …

“A Seine-side holiday. That, in a nutshell, is what Paris Plages is all about – complete with sandy beaches, deckchairs, ubiquitous ice cream sellers, and concerts for French and foreign guests. …

“The first beach [opened] in 2002. It spans three kilometres through historical Paris, and features open-air attractions (rollerblading, tai-chi, wall climbing, boules etc.). Refreshment areas, play areas and deckchairs are available for your time out unwinding by the river.” More.

Photo: Wikipedia.org. Many amusing pictures here, too.

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There’s nothing like good weather in Rhode Island in July. Good for walks and going to the beach. Good for a hardworking fishing industry, too.

Here are a few recent photos.

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Saying adios to a few things I don’t expect to see anytime soon — including the romantic potato that Pat gave Sandra, which will likely get eaten before I see my friends again — or made into a Christmas ornament.

To paraphrase Heraclitus, no one ever steps in the same river twice.

And while we are on the subject of ancient philosophy, you of course remember the Klingon adage, “Everything moves on, like gorillas at the beach.”

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I believe these marshmallows are used as  prizes in the giants’ midnight games of dodge ball. Please correct me if I’m wrong.

Other photographs of summer are less cryptic.

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I took a taste of local strawberries, and they brought back the little wild strawberries of my childhood. And how a friend might come over, and I might tell her in whispers that I had found a secret place.

I wouldn’t say where exactly until we got close, and she would have to promise not to tell anyone. Then, checking around that no one was watching, I would lead her into a stand of pine trees and out into a clearing in the middle. And there we would sit down and pick wild strawberries, which are always sweeter than any in the supermarket.

Today I was asking my boss about his vacation with his wife’s family in France. He said his four-year-old had such freedom there to run outside and play with cousins. It reminded him of the freedom of his own childhood, and he thought his daughter was only just now experiencing the way childhood is supposed to be. Where he lives, in the city, his little girl could never just run out  like that.

(If you are interested, here is one of many studies on the importance of nature and play in childhood.)

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No doubt I would have grown up to be a photographer if the Brownie cameras and box cameras I used as a child had not gotten sand in them. After at least a week of high anticipation, the film kept coming back black. Very discouraging. All the effort I had put into creating little still-life scenes with dolls and sea shells — wasted!

So a word to the wise, if you take a camera to the beach, protect it.

I got a few pictures on this lovely June day, but I fear they lack the artistry that surely would have been evident had sand not mysteriously worked its way into all cameras in my youth.

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Do you remember seeing a René Magritte painting called “Ceci n’est pas une pipe”? It took me a while to get what he meant. It was a picture of a pipe, after all. Why would he call it “This is not a pipe.”

(Oh, right. It’s not a real pipe. You can’t fill it with tobacco. You can’t smoke it.)

In the same spirit, I am posting pictures of not-summer.

On a warm July day, I took my photos of blue skies, beach paths, and small boats, and the next thing I knew we were having a Labor Day clambake. Within two days, summer was over, and a curtain of cold, windy rain descended. Along with the September mindset, my husband says.

Ceci ne’est pas l’été. Au revoir.

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