Week in Seven Words #538

This covers the week of 5/10/20 - 5/16/20.

aquatic

A delightful amount of turtles in one pond. They cluster around a wooden dock. Another pond has no fish or turtles; it's ringed with azaleas. The liquid voice of a stream emerges from it.

celebrate

A rich pomegranate wine.

composition

Different kinds of music in the park: a troubadour, a jazz musician accompanied by honking geese, a student violinist struggling through Bach.

enfolded

I've never explored this part of the park. It's a nature sanctuary enclosed with a fence. The gates aren't always open. Now they admit us to mulchy paths, frilled with undergrowth, and trees that soften traffic noise. One path takes us to a rock overlooking a large pond. Beyond the water, the buildings seem distant.

fountains

There are multiple fountains in these gardens, each with its own character. One is boastful and grand. Another is shy and invites you to quietly sit beside it in the shade. A third is playful, in perpetual frolic.

misgivings

I don't know if I'm in the right frame of mind to help her, but I'd feel terribly guilty if I didn't.

sliding

I'm on a video conferencing call with a cluster of people, and I need to remind myself to keep my face visible. My inclination to slide off-screen is nearly overpowering.

Week in Seven Words #498

astronomy
We find Jupiter with its banded surface, and a tiny, pale Saturn. Strangely, it's our moon that's foggiest and most unclear.

engorged
The meal before the fast is full of water-rich foods, like cucumbers, turnips, green beans, and watermelon.

fascination
When the fountain leaps to life, one boy steps back in startled wonder. The other climbs on the rim to peer closely at the shifting configurations of water.

generational
I prefer the reading voices of the older men, their raspy, trembling dignity. The younger men recite without feeling in a nasally intonation.

glades
In a park installed on old elevated rail tracks, there's an atmosphere of forest enchantment. Some people paddle their feet in a dark stream. Others are tucked on wooden lounge chairs screened by leaves. A handful of children listen to gentle music while painting tiles in the foggy light. We turn a corner and discover a dark, massive sculpture of a human head.

licked
They order marble cheese cake, strawberry shortcake, and a dense chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and chocolate pudding. Without even planning it, I grab one of the extra forks and shave off some of the frosting. It's almost too much in sweetness and richness, and it undermines the resolve I had formed to avoid chocolate for the week.

sunless
A thunderstorm brings dusk to mid-afternoon. Lightning dips into the river like a bony finger.

Week in Seven Words #495

cacophonous
We sit across from each other in a tiny office. Construction noise shatters our conversation.

fountain
The water in the fountain is dark and murky. Lily pads float in the basin. Partly a fountain, partly a pond, presided over by the statue of an angel.

models
The planes, which have been used for war, now look like painted toys displayed in unrelenting sunlight.

petrological
Anxiety: small, sharp stones on a stream bed churning in a powerful current. Regret: boulders thundering down a hillside.

plaza
Metal chairs beneath branches delicate as bones. Many people are reading, scrolling through websites, or sharing silence with friends. One man is alone and insane. He's ranting about $10 and listening to Elton John and Phil Collins on a small radio.

sweatiness
We push our way through the stuffy, narrow corridors of a ship. What must it have felt and smelled like, powering through the Tropics in days of no deodorant or A/C?

wistfully
The dog leaps at me and puts her paws up on my legs for a neck massage and chest rub. One guy looking on says that he could use a massage to his neck too.

Week in Seven Words #451

complicated
What happens, he asks, if you've made a great mistake or committed a serious unethical action, but since then your life has grown around it? The mistake has become a part of the structure of your life, and in ways that are helpful to other people. How do you make amends under those circumstances, without causing greater harm?

elegance
Glasses clinking over a table softened by white cloth and sprays of flowers.

green
It's easy to be wise, he says, when you're young and naive. He used to give people marriage advice before he got married. He laughs now, thinking back on that time, decades ago.

named
One of the benches in the park has a plaque dedicated to a homeless man. It was his bench.

nimbleness
In the light spitting rain, the white columns of the fountain jet up, and the top of each column breaks away to leap like a liquid acrobat.

spoonfuls
She comes over to cook, and throughout the afternoon I enjoy tastings.

water
A misty rain tickles my forehead. Sea gulls circle in the mist, and a duck lifts away from the river.

Week in Seven Words #448

dandelion
The fountain looks like a dandelion in a fuzzy state. Instead of sending seeds into the wind, it releases soft white droplets.

embassy
From around the corner of the block, through a lobby, to a cramped waiting room, which doesn't have enough chairs, down a roped-off corridor, into an elevator, and finally up to the sanctum, a broad, gleaming chamber with plenty of cushy chairs and bureaucrats forcing smiles from behind the counter.

eye-rolling
Low-key, humorous grumbling from people well-acquainted with bureaucratic inefficiencies.

over
She writes about the end of a friendship but gets frustrated when the words make the relationship and its dissolution sound trivial. She wants whoever is reading it to understand how much it hurt her.

rictus
It's supposed to be a discussion group but it has a cultish infomercial feel to it where everyone is relentlessly bright and empty-eyed.

spiritedly
Her resting face gives the impression of boredom, but her thoughts are energetic, and if you talk to her about an interesting topic, she becomes animated, her eyes brighter and a smile ready to flicker to life.

variable
Just when I'm thinking the street is bland, full of the dull mirrors of office building glass, I spot an enormous church with a dome.

Week in Seven Words #395

artificial
The wetlands we walk through are deceptive. They aren't the original wetlands, which were destroyed. They're a restoration. But the restoration is failing, because even though the obvious ingredients seem to be there, there are missing elements or imbalanced interactions that are turning the area into a woodland.

confining
The dog is boarding at a veterinary hospital, and I'm not allowed to take her outdoors. After she jumps at me and races around the small room and sticks her head in my tote bag, she sits on my lap for a while to stare out the window. Later, when I shoulder my bag, she realizes I'm about to leave. She presses her paws against my thighs. Her soft whining makes me feel even worse for her.

dedication
Her interest in the city's water systems and resources is inspiring. She's found an issue she's committed to and acts on it, giving talks, leading hikes, and volunteering to measure water contents. There's a purity to her focus.

horticulturist
A man yells, "Grow, grow!" at a plant box outside of his apartment building.

opening
A thick tree has fallen across the trail. Part of the trunk has been cut away to let people walk through it, as if it's a wall now with a doorway.

unbridled
I step off the curb, then quickly back on it, as a delivery guy on a motorized bike blows a red light and zooms past. The bike swerves as if he's losing control of it. Another delivery guy, waiting at the light, screams for him to stop. It takes the length of a block for him to slow down.

vaporous
After each deep thumping noise, the fountain sprays a mist of water as if it's the blowhole on a whale.

Week in Seven Words #388

barnyard
Baby goats press against the legs of the man who feeds them; they peer out from the folds of his trousers. Chickens walk around in their strange, obsessive way, making discontented noises.

drafts
The artists have set up studios in derelict homes. Most of the rooms are empty; some are papered in sketches. Here and there, a dash of paint disturbs a long stretch of dust.

meditation
With their bodies, they seem to form letters of the alphabet. Their spines curve, and their arms rise and bend. Their instructor walks among them and gently edits the poses.

petrichor
A walk between downpours. Everything is soaked in the smell of after-rain.

snarling
The music growls and punches holes in the quiet.

spasms
The worm, freshly plucked, flops around in the bird's beak.

unsophisticated
The fountain looks like it's juggling balls of foam. People sigh as they watch it; some record it on their phones. I like seeing this lack of jadedness. People taking pleasure in a simple, beautiful sight.

Week in Seven Words #354

apply
He's bored reading about U.S. labor laws from the early 20th century. Then he comes across a YouTube video about the labor conditions for smartphone manufacturing. He starts to pay more attention, make connections.

captivating
The fountain has three statues of women spinning in dance, hand-in-hand. It's ringed by flowers, and as the flowers draw bees, the fountain draws people to take photos, and to kneel by its side and run their fingers through the dark water.

driving
The storm whips up dirt and litter. In the stinging rain, discarded cups whirl around. With clothes soaked, I wait under an awning with several others. The wind steers the rain to us.

gift
A handful of hours made for a walk on wooded paths along pools and streams.

pocket
The park is a handful of benches and a bit of greenery in an alley. The bricks catch at the sunlight, and flies swarm in the moist shade.

pup
A woman relaxes on a blanket with a dog tucked against the curve of her waist.

sharp
An insect bite crackling with pain.

Week in Seven Words #306

conspicuous
A Mustang parked outside a condemned brick home. Its front left tire is poised on the edge of a scum puddle.

drearily
His conversation - mostly heavy sighs and talk of how everything is ending.

fastened
They stand on the edge of an empty fountain and embrace.

jive
She stages her skilled, frenetic dance in the narrow aisle between two bookshelves.

myopia
Their need for a scapegoat outweighs anything good she does.

plaster
People's image of themselves can act as their greatest obstacle. They didn't work alone in constructing that self-image. If they ever want to tear parts of it down, they'll need help, perseverance, and tolerance for pain.

squishy
Scooping gobs of warm, wet clothes from the washing machine.

Week in Seven Words #284

delaying
Eyeing an assignment sidelong - a tough one, and I wish I could put it off. But if I do that, it will expand in my mind like a tentacled beast, throttling other thoughts.

dribble
Sneakers squeak on the indoor basketball court. Athletic giants peer down at the players from a mural that runs along the upper part of the wall.

nestling
In a coffee shop where the light doesn't reach every corner, we're huddled over tea and plates of pastries. The window is smudged with dirt and rain.

oversight
The sign says, "Do not smoke on this bench or near this bench." Maybe it will be replaced soon by a sign that clarifies what 'near' means - three feet? Five feet? Ten? We can't leave these things to chance. People need to be told exactly what to do. Make sure a security camera is pointing at the bench too, just in case.

shrunken
"I've seen it all," he says. But no, he hasn't. He just feels like he has. And for the time being he lacks the energy to risk any new experiences. He's retreated, hurt, and the world looks inhospitable to him. But comforting, because he's made it smaller than it is. He can pretend to see into its far corners. Nothing will surprise him.

varicolored
The fountain erupts in a shower of light, like a watery fireworks show.

winged
She's arranged the flowers to look like butterflies, circling and landing.

Week in Seven Words #237

congested
Most of the air in the room has been absorbed into the furniture - chairs stiff with disuse, a piano that would croak at the touch of curious fingers.

essence
"We should all be well," she says, peering at us with eyes that see nothing but cloudy shapes and light.

fried
Old homes by the ocean criss-crossed by power lines, their bricks glowing and their gables peeling away.

prospects
In the fountain - coins, litter, and a water-logged postcard; maybe someone making a wish about the next place they'd like to visit.

smolder
The smell of cigarette smoke off a leather jacket can be attractive in passing.

splotches
A courtyard: sticky fruit on stone hexagons.

unfurled
Ferns in a blue vase on a balcony, with the river below.

Half-Day in Boston

From the same trip with the Cambridge morning walk and Salem in 25 photos…

Boston Museum of Fine Arts



Mary Baker Eddy Library





At the library, there's the Mapparium - a huge walk-in glass globe you can stand right in the middle of. The globe dates from the 1930s, so it's a snapshot of the world then. Wasn't allowed to take photos in it, but here's a look from the website.

Week in Seven Words #172

attentive
Beneath a tree that's touching the ground with its upper branches, they read the Ten Commandments. People listen quietly and eat ice cream.

forced
He thinks that if he stops telling jokes, he'll be boring. People will wonder why they're talking to him. So he doesn't relax. It's a fine day outside, and he's got a kindly, patient audience, but he can't stop forcing the jokes.

goofiness
Without prompting, he belts out a funny song and acts out all the voices. Silliness can be beautiful.

oenophile
A large dog in a wine shop, moseying among the shelves.

reactions
Because we all talk when watching TV, it still winds up being quality time with them. In reaction to what's on the screen, they reveal things about what they think and feel, and they ask questions.

tête-à-tête
A bench beneath a tree by a fountain. The shadows in the afternoon move slowly.

wearying
I look around, and I can't truthfully say I'm eager to meet any of them.

10 great places for reading outdoors in downtown Philly

When I lived in Philly my apartment wasn't in Center City (downtown) but I did walk around a lot there and I can vouch for each of these places as excellent reading spots along with being good outdoor hang-outs; some of them are crowded and lively, while others are quiet and out of the way.

People often raise safety concerns about Philly, but I never felt unsafe in any of the places listed below (mostly because I visited them in the daytime, usually on Sunday afternoons); in any case, use your common sense and listen to your instincts if you feel uncomfortable anywhere.

Week in Seven Words #125

assured
He loves looking at photos of his parents and older siblings. When you point them out one by one and name them he smiles confidently. To them he belongs, and they belong to him.

convection
Throughout the heatwave I resolutely (many would say idiotically) leave the air conditioning off; there's a breeze coming in through the window - a warm breeze, but at least the air is circulating – and I can live with that. When the thunderstorm finally rips through the city, I notice at once how the quality of the air changes, pouring in cool and damp. I don't think I've ever loved thunderstorms more.

curious
On the subway a young man is openly reading a paperback copy of Fifty Shades of Gray. From time to time he looks up from the book and stares into the middle distance.

fortitude
I'm having a pleasant time, even though the sun's in my eyes and the rock I'm sitting on is trying to pry open a new orifice in my body.

parched
On a hot dark night people are gathered moth-like around the lit fountain.

pigments
At the restaurant he turns the table into a palette on which he mixes the dull green of smushed peas with glossy drippings of soy sauce and bright ketchup red.

reeled
I can't remember the last time I set foot in a movie theater (was it for The Fantastic Mr. Fox in 2009?), but I enjoy the experience. It's a week night, so it isn't too crowded. I like the hugeness of the sights and sounds. I even like the previews (no matter how bad a movie turns out to be, the previews are pretty much always entertaining).

Week in Seven Words #120

alfresco
Early Sunday afternoon I sit on a bench by the fountain, my face brushed by its windblown mist as I eat a hamburger.

cultivar
It's one of the best kept secrets of the city: a small rose garden crackling with bumblebees.

fullness
It feels like late summer here in the Ramble. The air in the early evening is heavy and warm; the trees look about as full and green as they'll ever get. I find a quiet place where the path slopes down to the water. Long-stemmed purple flowers grow there, and the light reflecting off the lake shimmers on the tree trunks. It's a deep gold early evening light that soaks into everything.

pastime
From the sidewalk they look like odd modern sculptures in metal or harsh plastic. Just as I'm about to walk by, it hits me: they're game pieces. Game pieces as big as people. I climb the steps to the sunlit plaza where they're displayed, among them chess pawns and the wheelbarrow from Monopoly.

recidivism
They've invented a game where I'm a visitor at a museum who can't help but touch everything that's on display. As a punishment I'm to be repeatedly shot at with plastic space commando guns and dragged into a jail cell from which I will have to break out, so that I may go to the museum again and repeat the process.

stagy
It's an operatic evening. I'm not at the opera myself, but I do walk across a curving stone bridge that looks like it could be a prop for a soprano to stand on and sing. Then I go by the opera house when it's darker. The fountain lights are on, and the windows are golden.

unfurling
At the end of the pier, the river feels like an ocean. All around us are boats, sunlight, and sky, water that doesn't seem to have an end in either direction.

Windblown tulips at Bowling Green

Week in Seven Words #106

bewilderment
Of all the emotions I read in the puppy's eyes (or read into them), bewilderment is most prominent. Why doesn't she get to piddle on the floor and run around wherever she wants and chew on the DVD player? Why do her keepers alternate between belly rubs and scoldings?

chafing
Some of them yield to a lack of responsibility, the close of their life where they can be tended to and spend their time drawing, watching videos, or staring out of windows. Others bristle, even gently, against the activities suggested to them. They shrink away or turn stony when someone addresses them in a patronizing babying voice. Their body or mind might be turning on them, and there might be no one left who bothers to visit, but they aren't going to settle happily before a pile of coloring pages and play with crayons.

chirography
I don't know what he's writing about, as he sits in the subway car with a notebook propped on his knee, but his hand-writing is beautiful. I hope the words are beautiful too. I think he could make art of a grocery list with his languid looping script.

heartfelt
Because she can't see so well, she dictates the Valentine to me, a week before Valentine's Day. I write her words out on a red, purple and pink construction paper heart, and I wonder if the person she's writing to is real, or still alive and living at the address she remembers. She has a great memory for addresses. Her words are straightforward - "thank you for visiting me, I'm sorry I couldn't see you at the time" - and I hope this person is real and that the Valentine arrives at the right place.

landmarks
An empty bandshell, the grand avenue of elms, an angel in a dead fountain. The bridge I cross shows up in sharp reflection on cloudy water.

promise
I hope to be worthy of the risks I'm taking.

ruction
Geese and ducks struggle over crumbs from bread and muffins. Two of the ducks whirl in a circle of combat on the water, a taut coil of movement, until one of them breaks free and skips away like a stone across the surface of the lake.

Autumn in Philly

I've posted twice on Autumn in New York, but Philadelphia is beautiful too in the fall.

Week in Seven Words #92

chutzpah
A library has no business being closed.

detours
Side streets beckon to us as we walk. Their houses and trees are pressed close, their sidewalks are rumpled and scratchy with fallen leaves. They're dotted with pumpkins, and their windows peek out from shutters and flower boxes.

jolted
Revelations on a Friday afternoon. I have just enough time to send out some emails and make a couple of calls before I abstain from technology for the next twenty-five hours. Monday will be here soon enough. Meanwhile I need to retreat into my Friday night and wait. Patiently.

multifunctional
In the park the fountain is drained. The water has given way to scattered leaves and children barreling around in the basin on tricycles.

proliferation
'What-ifs' and 'if-onlys' can breed and multiply and take hold of your soul if you let them.

solace
What comforts me: singing aloud, which brings a kind of catharsis. Meaningful reading, which shores up my sense of purpose. Another person's laughter, which spreads joy.

wince
It hurts me to see you hurt, she says, grimacing at my bandaged wrist.