This covers the week of 10/27/19 - 11/2/19.
departure
I hurry back to give her a second kiss.
depression
One statue with a ripped out torso embodies depression. Mind and body laid to waste.
feasting
At an Uzbek restaurant: salads in small, shallow dishes and a delicious stew that settles comfortably in my stomach for what seems like days.
mealtimes
A rich salmon salad in the morning. Pecan cookies in the afternoon. Some yogurt for dinner.
sculptures
On one outdoor terrace, a sculpted horse considers the ocean and the narrow streets of an old neighborhood. On the rooftop, a real bird with black and white feathers perches on a steampunk-like contraption. Nearby, a statue skulks, its face lost in the shadows of a hood.
staked
The cat peers out from among broad, dusty leaves.
waterfront
By the ocean: scooters, bikes, paper boats strung up in the air, a rippling flag on a rock among the waves.
Showing posts with label ocean. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ocean. Show all posts
Monday, June 1, 2020
Sunday, December 16, 2018
Week in Seven Words #439
enclave
The farther east we walk along the beach, the more Russian we hear. A few young women run up to us at one point and say something in Russian. On seeing our blank expression, they switch to English, and we understand that they'd like their photo taken in front of the ocean.
glossiness
The lawn has a velvet sheen in the sunshine.
mirrors
Facing the ocean are murals depicting its degradation.
plasticky
Along the boardwalk, there's a lot that's cheap and bright: plastic colors, sweet and fried foods, silly sound effects from quick games and rides.
scrawling
The rollercoaster looks like red scribbles on sky blue paper.
shade
It's a pleasant crescent of beach with a patchwork of umbrellas. There are circles of shade from the umbrellas, planks of shade from trees, and shade that shifts like cloth cast by the leaves.
wobbling
He pretends to know it all, but his act is unsteady. His lips turn down at the corners. His eyes widen and look away. To make up for the uncertainties coursing through him, he deepens his voice and tosses an insult.
The farther east we walk along the beach, the more Russian we hear. A few young women run up to us at one point and say something in Russian. On seeing our blank expression, they switch to English, and we understand that they'd like their photo taken in front of the ocean.
glossiness
The lawn has a velvet sheen in the sunshine.
mirrors
Facing the ocean are murals depicting its degradation.
plasticky
Along the boardwalk, there's a lot that's cheap and bright: plastic colors, sweet and fried foods, silly sound effects from quick games and rides.
scrawling
The rollercoaster looks like red scribbles on sky blue paper.
shade
It's a pleasant crescent of beach with a patchwork of umbrellas. There are circles of shade from the umbrellas, planks of shade from trees, and shade that shifts like cloth cast by the leaves.
wobbling
He pretends to know it all, but his act is unsteady. His lips turn down at the corners. His eyes widen and look away. To make up for the uncertainties coursing through him, he deepens his voice and tosses an insult.
Saturday, April 21, 2018
Week in Seven Words #398
breathtaking
There's a beach by a quarry, and it's one of the best places I've been to, beautiful and invigorating. It's made up of slabs of rock strewn along the shore. Just picking one to sit on is a pleasure. I rest for a while with the sun on my shoulders. I could have spent days there.
kayaker
A river wends through red, green, and gold grass. A kayak emerges from under a bridge, and sunlight shimmers in its wake.
seaside
Walking to the farthest reach of the jetty, I have a feeling of being embraced by blue. The sky, with some blue-white smears of cloud, the harbor spreading out on all sides, and the water trickling through the clumsy string of rocks - blue all around.
secretive
It's an old house, with enormous trees fussing around it and petting it with their branches, and shrubs rearing up to screen it protectively. It keeps silent about the people who lived there and what they saw from its windows. What we have are some facts embellished by imagination.
sweeten
It's a town of fudge and ice cream and pastels, flowers in window boxes and clapboard churches overlooking the ocean.
visage
In an art museum, I like the portraits best. They're characters expressing stories.
wondrous
The sound of a blue whale's heartbeat.
There's a beach by a quarry, and it's one of the best places I've been to, beautiful and invigorating. It's made up of slabs of rock strewn along the shore. Just picking one to sit on is a pleasure. I rest for a while with the sun on my shoulders. I could have spent days there.
kayaker
A river wends through red, green, and gold grass. A kayak emerges from under a bridge, and sunlight shimmers in its wake.
seaside
Walking to the farthest reach of the jetty, I have a feeling of being embraced by blue. The sky, with some blue-white smears of cloud, the harbor spreading out on all sides, and the water trickling through the clumsy string of rocks - blue all around.
secretive
It's an old house, with enormous trees fussing around it and petting it with their branches, and shrubs rearing up to screen it protectively. It keeps silent about the people who lived there and what they saw from its windows. What we have are some facts embellished by imagination.
sweeten
It's a town of fudge and ice cream and pastels, flowers in window boxes and clapboard churches overlooking the ocean.
visage
In an art museum, I like the portraits best. They're characters expressing stories.
wondrous
The sound of a blue whale's heartbeat.
Tuesday, October 17, 2017
Halibut Point State Park is Amazing
In early September, I went on a vacation for a few days to Boston and to some of the towns within commuting distance, including Rockport on the Cape Ann Peninsula. The highlight in Rockport was walking from the center of town to Halibut Point State Park.
It used to be a granite quarry, and the quarry is full of water now. It's stunning.
Along with walking around the quarry, you can look out over the ocean.
And head down to a beach layered in slabs of rock.
Have a picnic here.
The walk to and from town is also wonderful, with beautiful yards and gardens along the way, and openings to the sea that tease the imagination.
I felt lucky to visit these places.
It used to be a granite quarry, and the quarry is full of water now. It's stunning.
Along with walking around the quarry, you can look out over the ocean.
And head down to a beach layered in slabs of rock.
Have a picnic here.
The walk to and from town is also wonderful, with beautiful yards and gardens along the way, and openings to the sea that tease the imagination.
I felt lucky to visit these places.
Sunday, April 16, 2017
Week in Seven Words #337
admiring
"Look at this beautiful sand castle!" the boy's mother says, moments before he kicks it apart.
desquamated
The professor's voice is undercut by a steady 'scrape scrape scrape' like wood getting planed by hand. It comes from three seats in front of me. A woman is scratching her arm, showering large flakes of skin.
firewater
Alcohol isn't allowed on the beach, but who would look twice at their coffee thermos, even if they pour its contents into plastic shot glasses.
fluctuate
The skin cooks, and the wind cools it.
intertidal
A dog on the beach frisking away from the incoming water, then leaping after it as it retreats.
pinwheel
The girl takes off her flip-flops, holds one in each hand, and twirls on the sand.
unsurprised
I ask her why she rarely says anything kind to me. I don't get the answer I want to hear, though I do get the one I expect.
"Look at this beautiful sand castle!" the boy's mother says, moments before he kicks it apart.
desquamated
The professor's voice is undercut by a steady 'scrape scrape scrape' like wood getting planed by hand. It comes from three seats in front of me. A woman is scratching her arm, showering large flakes of skin.
firewater
Alcohol isn't allowed on the beach, but who would look twice at their coffee thermos, even if they pour its contents into plastic shot glasses.
fluctuate
The skin cooks, and the wind cools it.
intertidal
A dog on the beach frisking away from the incoming water, then leaping after it as it retreats.
pinwheel
The girl takes off her flip-flops, holds one in each hand, and twirls on the sand.
unsurprised
I ask her why she rarely says anything kind to me. I don't get the answer I want to hear, though I do get the one I expect.
Sunday, January 10, 2016
Week in Seven Words #274
blue
The town is most memorable in its shades of blue: on walls, on signs, on balconies painted midnight. Also in the way its art galleries are strung together along narrow stone paths. Sculptures flow like melting wax. Painted bodies have been broken into basic geometric shapes, each a different color, some in shades of blue.
froth
Every day she acts out painful, unexamined feelings from her childhood. Her behavior stirs up frustration and anger in other people, and in herself. Maybe these familiar emotions are comforting; they generate a lot of surface churn, deflecting attention from the deeper damage.
hushfully
A peaceful stroll around a lake. The grass is riddled with abstract sculptures. Strange birds peck at the soil and slip into the water.
littoral
The coast changes its character along the way: golden sand and columns, a harbor shimmering in the heat, porous rocks pounded by the surf.
nibbles
Bins brimming with nuts and candies, the air rich and sweet.
passageways
The apartment complex is like a small, intricate city. Perched on a hill overlooking empty fields, it's full of winding lanes, narrow doors, and rough stone walls that open onto hidden courtyards.
sup
You get acquainted with their distinct personalities. There's the server who's everyone's favorite long lost son; he doles out soup with a smile and a self-deprecating joke. Another server makes motherly noises at you and gives you meatless bones that she claims are pieces of chicken. The cook is begrudgingly kind and clearly wishes she were elsewhere, maybe getting a pedicure or at home reading magazines and eating pickles.
The town is most memorable in its shades of blue: on walls, on signs, on balconies painted midnight. Also in the way its art galleries are strung together along narrow stone paths. Sculptures flow like melting wax. Painted bodies have been broken into basic geometric shapes, each a different color, some in shades of blue.
froth
Every day she acts out painful, unexamined feelings from her childhood. Her behavior stirs up frustration and anger in other people, and in herself. Maybe these familiar emotions are comforting; they generate a lot of surface churn, deflecting attention from the deeper damage.
hushfully
A peaceful stroll around a lake. The grass is riddled with abstract sculptures. Strange birds peck at the soil and slip into the water.
littoral
The coast changes its character along the way: golden sand and columns, a harbor shimmering in the heat, porous rocks pounded by the surf.
nibbles
Bins brimming with nuts and candies, the air rich and sweet.
passageways
The apartment complex is like a small, intricate city. Perched on a hill overlooking empty fields, it's full of winding lanes, narrow doors, and rough stone walls that open onto hidden courtyards.
sup
You get acquainted with their distinct personalities. There's the server who's everyone's favorite long lost son; he doles out soup with a smile and a self-deprecating joke. Another server makes motherly noises at you and gives you meatless bones that she claims are pieces of chicken. The cook is begrudgingly kind and clearly wishes she were elsewhere, maybe getting a pedicure or at home reading magazines and eating pickles.
Thursday, February 12, 2015
Four short stories for an unromantic Valentine's Day
Title: How to Talk to Girls at Parties
Author: Neil Gaiman
Where I Read It: Fragile Things
This reads as a twist on the tired idea that men and women are from different planets. Two teenaged boys, one of them shy and the other one more confident, wind up at a party where the girls are literally aliens - intergalactic travelers, countless galaxies in their eyes. One girl is a living poem containing the essence of a people whose planet died. Intimacy can be terrifying, what with the universe we each have in our heads.
Title: Legal Aid
Author: Frank O'Connor
Where I Read It: Legal Fictions
In Ireland, two young people fool around, the girl gets pregnant, the boy is weak-willed, the boy's father objects strenuously to the idea of marriage, and finally it's up to the girl's lawyer to try and resolve the situation out of court where it's made its way in a paternity suit. The story is full of sly humor and spot-on observations about social pressures and people's petty foolishness. It also compares people's messy actions and motives to the tidy narratives they try to spin in court - where they become 2D figures (paragons or fiends) in a staged drama that has little to do with justice. One lawyer has to choose either to destroy his target in court the way he's been paid to do or to recognize her humanity and the all around fragility and shabbiness of the situation.
Title: Liars in Love
Author: Richard Yates
Where I Read It: The Granta Book of the American Short Story
Love in this story is a temporary word, used when convenient to express a short-lived need. Play-acting at love is a way to fight off loneliness. The main character is on a scholarship in England and on his own for a while. He acts like someone else and steps into a life that isn't his. It's an intense but hollow fiction. And if he can express love as a lie so neatly during this brief, unusual interlude, what does it say about his feelings the rest of the time when he's back in his "real life?" Throughout the story, there's the sense of people engaging in the mechanics of a relationship (sex, cohabitation, meeting the partner's family), but without real intimacy. They clutch at each other for a while and remain lonely.
Title: The Littoral Zone
Author: Andrea Barrett
Where I Read It: American Short Stories Since 1945
Two scientists studying marine life have an affair. Both are married. When they're apart from their families, their relationship makes sense to them, and they think it's worth the betrayals and upheaval. But what will they discover about themselves, years later? What made sense at one point in their lives might no longer apply, and what they live on now are stories they tell to try to justify and redeem what they've lost.
In oceanography, the term 'littoral zone' refers to the part of the ocean nearest the shore (it also sounds erogenous). It's an unsteady place, subject to currents, winds, the tide, the shape of the shoreline and other sources of influence. Creatures that thought they'd learned to thrive there might find themselves gasping on dry land or thrashing around in unexpected turbulence. To keep living, they need to adapt, even if circumstances are now less favorable than they were before. To survive, they can't turn on each other. The stories they tell regulate the tension in their relationship and preserve a certain environment that allows them to both keep breathing.
Author: Neil Gaiman
Where I Read It: Fragile Things
This reads as a twist on the tired idea that men and women are from different planets. Two teenaged boys, one of them shy and the other one more confident, wind up at a party where the girls are literally aliens - intergalactic travelers, countless galaxies in their eyes. One girl is a living poem containing the essence of a people whose planet died. Intimacy can be terrifying, what with the universe we each have in our heads.
Title: Legal Aid
Author: Frank O'Connor
Where I Read It: Legal Fictions
In Ireland, two young people fool around, the girl gets pregnant, the boy is weak-willed, the boy's father objects strenuously to the idea of marriage, and finally it's up to the girl's lawyer to try and resolve the situation out of court where it's made its way in a paternity suit. The story is full of sly humor and spot-on observations about social pressures and people's petty foolishness. It also compares people's messy actions and motives to the tidy narratives they try to spin in court - where they become 2D figures (paragons or fiends) in a staged drama that has little to do with justice. One lawyer has to choose either to destroy his target in court the way he's been paid to do or to recognize her humanity and the all around fragility and shabbiness of the situation.
Title: Liars in Love
Author: Richard Yates
Where I Read It: The Granta Book of the American Short Story
Love in this story is a temporary word, used when convenient to express a short-lived need. Play-acting at love is a way to fight off loneliness. The main character is on a scholarship in England and on his own for a while. He acts like someone else and steps into a life that isn't his. It's an intense but hollow fiction. And if he can express love as a lie so neatly during this brief, unusual interlude, what does it say about his feelings the rest of the time when he's back in his "real life?" Throughout the story, there's the sense of people engaging in the mechanics of a relationship (sex, cohabitation, meeting the partner's family), but without real intimacy. They clutch at each other for a while and remain lonely.
Title: The Littoral Zone
Author: Andrea Barrett
Where I Read It: American Short Stories Since 1945
Two scientists studying marine life have an affair. Both are married. When they're apart from their families, their relationship makes sense to them, and they think it's worth the betrayals and upheaval. But what will they discover about themselves, years later? What made sense at one point in their lives might no longer apply, and what they live on now are stories they tell to try to justify and redeem what they've lost.
In oceanography, the term 'littoral zone' refers to the part of the ocean nearest the shore (it also sounds erogenous). It's an unsteady place, subject to currents, winds, the tide, the shape of the shoreline and other sources of influence. Creatures that thought they'd learned to thrive there might find themselves gasping on dry land or thrashing around in unexpected turbulence. To keep living, they need to adapt, even if circumstances are now less favorable than they were before. To survive, they can't turn on each other. The stories they tell regulate the tension in their relationship and preserve a certain environment that allows them to both keep breathing.
Friday, March 8, 2013
Week in Seven Words #161 - Grand Cayman edition
botanic
Sore with sunburn, we seek the shade of the color garden with its wall of trees and shrubs, its tiny darting lizards and tropical flowers.
cock-a-doodle-doo
The free parking lot in Georgetown, by the harbor, is a grassy lot where roosters strut around, pecking at the dirt, dodging the occasional car, and crowing their hearts out.
cocktails
At the poolside, everyone is pleasantly soused.
cruising
The public bus is a van, but there's room for everyone who wants to get on. There are some bus stops along the route, but the driver will stop anywhere if you flag him down. He listens to the same rapid, unending, unchanging music that plays everywhere else on the island and that sounds better when you've had a drink. When people pay him, he keeps the cash clutched in his fist, even as he drives.
cyclurids
After trundling along for some time with its head bobbing aggressively, the large blue iguana settles right in the middle of the path, in a patch of shadow cast by an overhanging tree. It stares at us dispassionately, not realizing that it's blocking our way. We could step over it, or maybe try to slip around it. Blue iguanas are herbivores, and they rarely bite people. But why take a chance? So after several minutes spent staring at it as it stares at us, we turn around and head back. Humans, with all the force of our intelligence, foiled by a lizard seeking a little shade.
immersed
For the first time in years, I swim in the ocean. The water feels like silk. When I look down at my hands, they're green and white. Waves spill over my back.
respire
The labored breaths of sea turtles coming up for air.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Worth Watching: The Secret of Roan Inish (1994)
Title: The Secret of Roan Inish
Director: John Sayles
Language: English (and a bit of Irish Gaelic)
Rating: PG
Synopsis
Fiona Conneely (Jeni Courtney) goes to live with her grandparents near Roan Inish (Island of the Seals), which used to be her family's home. Several years ago during an evacuation of the island her baby brother, Jamie, was washed out to sea in his cradle and never seen since. As Fiona settles in with her grandparents she learns about a family story involving a selkie, a seal that can slough off its skin and become human. When she visits Roan Inish she spots signs of human life and finally comes across a young boy who runs from her approach. It's her younger brother, she's sure, but how will she convince her family that he's alive? And what will get him to stop running from her when she calls his name?
Characters
Fiona is a stalwart girl; she listens and observes, and she's not easily afraid. What drives the film is her curiosity about Roan Inish, and then her determination to bring her missing brother back and help heal her family.
Her grandparents, played warmly by Mick Lally and Eileen Colgan, give Fiona a healthy loving home, and she finds a friend in her older cousin, Eamon (Richard Sheridan), a straightforward and hard-working kid. She also encounters another relative in back of a shop, gutting and scaling fish; people say that he's not quite right in the head, but he's also the one who tells Fiona about a key part of her family's past: the story of the selkie.
The film's treatment of the selkie (Susan Lynch) is matter-of-fact. The film doesn't marvel over her appearance or add any special effects to her transformation. The focus is on the emotion of the story; the selkie is torn between her family on land and her compulsion to return to the ocean.
The ocean is a character too, murmuring on the surface, silent below, slapping the sand and rocks. The seals lounge on the rocks watching the passing boats with their dark uncanny eyes.
Relationships
The ocean's rhythm of give and take shapes the history of Fiona's family in complex ways. As Fiona seeks out her brother she finds herself contending with the ocean and with her family's past.
Her cousin, Eamon, comes to believe her claims that she's seen her missing brother. Eamon becomes an older brother figure to Fiona, and her confidant; at one point he helps her with the difficult task of preparing the abandoned cottages on Roan Inish for habitation.
At the heart of it the story is about understanding one's past and bringing family back together, in a struggle to deal with traumatic changes and a world that's quickly modernizing. Fiona's grandparents have a warm secure home but their way of life is in danger, and they may have to move inland. The cities offer jobs but also fracture families, and there's a struggle to stay rooted in one's heritage and not lose it all to modern forces. Fiona is drawn to Roan Inish in part because her family was whole when they lived there.
Memorable sights and sounds
Stars and water framed by a bedroom window, as Fiona peers through the darkness at Roan Inish. The film in some ways has the quality of a dream, though it treats magical creatures as a concrete reality - improbable but not impossible.
The visuals are beautiful throughout - fog and cloud, a grassy knoll overrun with wild flowers, the watchful eyes of the seals who stealthily change the course of boats. The selkie herself with her pensive face and wild dark hair is also a sight, stirring a stew at the hearth or letting her child's cradle float in the shallows by the beach.
Stand-out scenes
One of the best sequences is when Fiona and Eamon are rebuilding the old cottages together. They're young, determined and competent. I love when movies show children as skilled and able to work wonders without superpowers or magic (and without the movie having a patronizing attitude towards them). The soundtrack is especially lively and beautiful too in this part of the film.
Further thoughts
In a lesser film, the reunion with Jamie would have taken place with melodrama and fanfare, close-ups of teary faces. There's never a sense that the film is talking down to the audience or holding itself cheaply. The same is true for the story-tellers in the film, who weave folklore into family history and trust that the substance of their tales will compel your attention.
Director: John Sayles
Language: English (and a bit of Irish Gaelic)
Rating: PG
Synopsis
Fiona Conneely (Jeni Courtney) goes to live with her grandparents near Roan Inish (Island of the Seals), which used to be her family's home. Several years ago during an evacuation of the island her baby brother, Jamie, was washed out to sea in his cradle and never seen since. As Fiona settles in with her grandparents she learns about a family story involving a selkie, a seal that can slough off its skin and become human. When she visits Roan Inish she spots signs of human life and finally comes across a young boy who runs from her approach. It's her younger brother, she's sure, but how will she convince her family that he's alive? And what will get him to stop running from her when she calls his name?
Characters
Fiona is a stalwart girl; she listens and observes, and she's not easily afraid. What drives the film is her curiosity about Roan Inish, and then her determination to bring her missing brother back and help heal her family.
Her grandparents, played warmly by Mick Lally and Eileen Colgan, give Fiona a healthy loving home, and she finds a friend in her older cousin, Eamon (Richard Sheridan), a straightforward and hard-working kid. She also encounters another relative in back of a shop, gutting and scaling fish; people say that he's not quite right in the head, but he's also the one who tells Fiona about a key part of her family's past: the story of the selkie.
The film's treatment of the selkie (Susan Lynch) is matter-of-fact. The film doesn't marvel over her appearance or add any special effects to her transformation. The focus is on the emotion of the story; the selkie is torn between her family on land and her compulsion to return to the ocean.
The ocean is a character too, murmuring on the surface, silent below, slapping the sand and rocks. The seals lounge on the rocks watching the passing boats with their dark uncanny eyes.
Relationships
The ocean's rhythm of give and take shapes the history of Fiona's family in complex ways. As Fiona seeks out her brother she finds herself contending with the ocean and with her family's past.
Her cousin, Eamon, comes to believe her claims that she's seen her missing brother. Eamon becomes an older brother figure to Fiona, and her confidant; at one point he helps her with the difficult task of preparing the abandoned cottages on Roan Inish for habitation.
At the heart of it the story is about understanding one's past and bringing family back together, in a struggle to deal with traumatic changes and a world that's quickly modernizing. Fiona's grandparents have a warm secure home but their way of life is in danger, and they may have to move inland. The cities offer jobs but also fracture families, and there's a struggle to stay rooted in one's heritage and not lose it all to modern forces. Fiona is drawn to Roan Inish in part because her family was whole when they lived there.
Memorable sights and sounds
Stars and water framed by a bedroom window, as Fiona peers through the darkness at Roan Inish. The film in some ways has the quality of a dream, though it treats magical creatures as a concrete reality - improbable but not impossible.
The visuals are beautiful throughout - fog and cloud, a grassy knoll overrun with wild flowers, the watchful eyes of the seals who stealthily change the course of boats. The selkie herself with her pensive face and wild dark hair is also a sight, stirring a stew at the hearth or letting her child's cradle float in the shallows by the beach.
Stand-out scenes
One of the best sequences is when Fiona and Eamon are rebuilding the old cottages together. They're young, determined and competent. I love when movies show children as skilled and able to work wonders without superpowers or magic (and without the movie having a patronizing attitude towards them). The soundtrack is especially lively and beautiful too in this part of the film.
Further thoughts
In a lesser film, the reunion with Jamie would have taken place with melodrama and fanfare, close-ups of teary faces. There's never a sense that the film is talking down to the audience or holding itself cheaply. The same is true for the story-tellers in the film, who weave folklore into family history and trust that the substance of their tales will compel your attention.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Different shades of the sea
Seen around Portland, Maine...
When sitting on a bench along the Eastern Promenade:
From a walk along Willard Beach:
On a boat coasting among the islands of the Casco Bay:
And from the Western Promenade, the first day of the visit, when everything was a melting misty gray:
When sitting on a bench along the Eastern Promenade:
From a walk along Willard Beach:
On a boat coasting among the islands of the Casco Bay:
And from the Western Promenade, the first day of the visit, when everything was a melting misty gray:
Thursday, June 24, 2010
From the mind of Lemuel Moody
The Portland Observatory is the last of its kind in the US - an old maritime signal tower, now preserved as a museum and as a great viewing spot overlooking Portland, Maine and the adjacent water and land.
Before new technology came along and made it obsolete, you stood at the top with a telescope, sighted approaching ships, and used flags to signal how many and which kinds of ships were coming, so people on the docks could get ready for the arrival and the unloading of cargo.
It was constructed and initially manned by a retired sea captain, Lemuel Moody. An enterprising and meticulous individual, he lived nearby with his wife and brood, who spent significant chunks of their childhood running up and down the stairs:
These days, along with footsteps, other sounds you hear regularly from the stairs are the words "watch your head", followed by a loud hollow thud.
The lovely views make up for the minor headaches.
You can also spot patterns that at ground-level would go unnoticed.
And once you're back on the ground, don't forget to look up.
Before new technology came along and made it obsolete, you stood at the top with a telescope, sighted approaching ships, and used flags to signal how many and which kinds of ships were coming, so people on the docks could get ready for the arrival and the unloading of cargo.
It was constructed and initially manned by a retired sea captain, Lemuel Moody. An enterprising and meticulous individual, he lived nearby with his wife and brood, who spent significant chunks of their childhood running up and down the stairs:
These days, along with footsteps, other sounds you hear regularly from the stairs are the words "watch your head", followed by a loud hollow thud.
The lovely views make up for the minor headaches.
You can also spot patterns that at ground-level would go unnoticed.
And once you're back on the ground, don't forget to look up.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Week in Seven Words #20
almost
Moments when I'm close to something, so close and I don't realize it, and later I know that I've turned away too soon.
effloresce
On nearly every street I come across roses. They grow in cluttered gardens, among scraps of metal and plastic toys. They poke through chain-link fences. They thrust themselves up the sides of houses, twine around trellises, and peek over porch rails. Their heads sometimes bow towards the bright green grass.
geometry
The strange shape of sunburns - circling my leg exactly where my socks begin, or my arms where my sleeves end; patching around my knees and calves where I didn't apply suntan lotion evenly, or framing my left wrist where my watch has kept the skin beneath it pale. My skin is sore in triangles, trapezoids, and ellipses.
lighthouse
In the daytime there's an elegance to it, perched on a rocky ledge above the rush and murmur of the bay.
promenade
Quiet streets overlooking the ocean, where boats are peacefully scattered. The air smells like salt water, flowers and mown grass. The houses are large and silent, multi-layered with wide windows, balconies, porches with white wicker chairs.
seawater
When I approach the sea I try to guess what color I'll find it. A misty melting gray in the fog, or fracturing the sunlight on a clear bright day. A hard gemstone blue, or light blue with dark folds and white foam.
tranquil
At the peak of the old maritime signal tower, with a view of rooftops, sea craft, and water all around, I sit next to a soft-spoken guitar player. There's sunshine, music, and from time to time the clomp of people climbing the winding wooden steps.
Moments when I'm close to something, so close and I don't realize it, and later I know that I've turned away too soon.
effloresce
On nearly every street I come across roses. They grow in cluttered gardens, among scraps of metal and plastic toys. They poke through chain-link fences. They thrust themselves up the sides of houses, twine around trellises, and peek over porch rails. Their heads sometimes bow towards the bright green grass.
geometry
The strange shape of sunburns - circling my leg exactly where my socks begin, or my arms where my sleeves end; patching around my knees and calves where I didn't apply suntan lotion evenly, or framing my left wrist where my watch has kept the skin beneath it pale. My skin is sore in triangles, trapezoids, and ellipses.
lighthouse
In the daytime there's an elegance to it, perched on a rocky ledge above the rush and murmur of the bay.
promenade
Quiet streets overlooking the ocean, where boats are peacefully scattered. The air smells like salt water, flowers and mown grass. The houses are large and silent, multi-layered with wide windows, balconies, porches with white wicker chairs.
seawater
When I approach the sea I try to guess what color I'll find it. A misty melting gray in the fog, or fracturing the sunlight on a clear bright day. A hard gemstone blue, or light blue with dark folds and white foam.
tranquil
At the peak of the old maritime signal tower, with a view of rooftops, sea craft, and water all around, I sit next to a soft-spoken guitar player. There's sunshine, music, and from time to time the clomp of people climbing the winding wooden steps.
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