Librarytour: Hug A Goose

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One of my favorite quirks of the main branch Boston Public Library is how items move around within -appearing and disappearing seemingly on the whim of the library staff. For example, there’s a little nook (vestibule, foyer?) where statues reside, just outside of Bates Hall in the McKim building. I’ve seen many different statues there.

Most recently, this one:

Library statue with swan

(Please excuse the dark photo; new point-n-shoot! Just getting adjusted.)

So what is happening here, you ask?

1.) The child appears to be either teasing or feeding the swan.
2.) Is that a swan, or perhaps it’s a goose?
3.) Why is the clothing so loose on this child? Any moment, to the floor!

In a world filled with decorative items, I suppose statues aren’t required to make sense. In any event, I’m curious to see what will replace it when the time comes. Whenever that is.

Resist Spring

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Every year, just as the temperature outdoors dips towards reasonable, and the buds and leaves start to unfurl, I think. No! Wait! I’m not ready.

I resist spring.

You see, the problem is, spring just moves too fast. From the first crocus I spot, to the squirrels rocketing about, to the birds waking me up at 5 AM with songs I never seem to recognize from year to year; it could all move a lot slower. I mean, what’s the rush? Summer stretches, winter is the worst kind of hanger on.

Where’s the fire, Spring?

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Friday Favorite – Apple Tree on Olmstead

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Since I started taking the Olmstead Park path through Jamaica Plain into Brookline, over a year ago, I’ve passed this apple tree in its many forms. Decked out with blossoms, in mid-summer greens, full of knobby, misshapen apples that I’ve seen only Canada geese eat, and once with a raccoon perched crookedly on top like a fur hat, I enjoy the sight of the tree in each of its annual moods.  I hope to snap a few more candids as the seasons progress.

Apple tree, pre-spring

Local Maple

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Recently, I joined friends on a trip out to Natick Community Organic Farm to check out Maple Magic Day.  We missed the pancake breakfast (so sad!), but we did enjoy a tour of the grounds and stood inside a real sugar shack, bathing in the steam and sugary air.  I was particularly pleased because, last fall, I read a book on maple sugaring, and so felt impressed to experience the workings in person.

An added bonus was running into two friends at the farm, both of whom, unbeknownst to me, work there!

Megna and HeatherHeaded in for the tour with my companions for the afternoon, Megna and Heather (my third companion Alice is off-screen.)

March Maple Magic Month

Welcome sign out front the sugar shack.

Bunny watches

Rabbit watches the crowd.

Poking the fire

A young worker tends the fire.

Donelle

My friend Donelle re-tells an indigenous-people’s story of maple syrup.

Maple bucket

Sap captured.  Later it will be combined with the sap of other trees and boiled, boiled, boiled.  The wisdom goes that it take forty gallons of sap to produce one gallon of syrup.

Bringing It

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In general, I’m not quick to anger. Sure, like most people, I’ve got my triggers, but I’m much more likely to laugh, shrug, or shake my head and wonder aloud at the mysteries of humans.

Enter bike commuting.

So this morning, riding serenely down Putnam Street in Cambridge (j/k – Putnam, with its constellation of potholes = far from serene), a woman in a large white SUV swerved around me, yelling out her open window, “Move over!”

Putnam Street is, I don’t know, twelve feet wide. It’s a narrow street. The Big Dipper potholes and road patches usually result in my taking the lane (for non-commuters this means = riding in the middle of a travel lane.)  I just don’t feel safe otherwise.

Enter the hollering driver in her SUV that barely fit in the lane. Enter 9:30 AM on a Wednesday. Enter fury.  

I fantasized about chasing her car down and through her open passenger’s side window (that she rolled down to shout at me?), giving that woman a piece of my mind. In a big way.

But you see, I’ve already done this. Multiple times, in multiple situations. It’s not satisfying. It’s never satisfying. Not even perhaps raising a choice finger. Not even mumbling savagely to myself. What happens is I get upset, I look out-of-control, I get exhausted by my own anger-adrenaline. And it’s just not worth my energy to take these situations personally, because they’re not personal.

Still when these situations occur, which is fairly often, a large (loud, panting, spitting) part of me is so ready to bring it; so unwilling to back down.  

Frustration leads to trashed bike?

Letter Love

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As I may have mentioned on this blog, I have an enormous appreciation for libraries.  But have I mentioned that, running nearly parallel with my library-love is an undying adoration for MAIL and letters?  (Notice the struggle to contain my excitement; how MAIL must be written in all caps?  And bolded.  >ahem<)

With that in mind, imagine my excitement to discover not just a bona-fide hand-written letter in my box this week, but also the first edition of Taproot Magazine, a new publication with whole-hearted-life themes that I’m very excited about.

I’ve been so excited, I haven’t yet opened either.  Just to savor the experience.

Mail

Librarytour: But Where Are The Books (Take 2)

My mother alerted me to an interesting article in the Nation about the New York Public Library’s plans to create a sort of library-within-a-library at their famous branch on 42nd Street in Manhattan. There is an intention to create a state-of-the-art computer-oriented library -called the Central Library Plan. However, in doing so, NYPL will displace the existing stacks -sending (according to the article) 3 million books to storage and demolishing the stacks (shelving.)

So the library is dumping Books and hooking up with Computers? Curious. I suppose if I lived in NYC and frequented that branch of the NYPL, I might be sad to see the books go. Except, as far as I’m aware, those books don’t circulate. And unless one is doing research, how often do people actually read full books while in the library? Isn’t part of the beauty of libraries the act of borrowing, to be trusted with public treasure in one’s own home?

This struck me on my first visit to NYPL. I thought: so beautiful and stately, but where are the books? I had to visit the library twice before I found them.

The Nation article carried a tone of nostalgia and called to mind old, gilded rooms devoted to one type of literature or another. Rooms I’d probably never enter. It also quoted a librarian who feared that the new computer-centric offerings will probably draw noisy crowds to what is now an impressively quite and calm atmosphere. I’ve seen these crowds in other city libraries, so I appreciate that librarian’s sentiment: it’s important to reserve spaces for quiet contemplation, as well as respectfully preserve a culture’s literature.

Seems to me a clash of cultures (also a bit of change-fear.) I’ll keep tabs on how this pans out.

San Francisco Library

This is actually the San Fran Public Library, but you get the picture.

Learning to Shoot

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So many cameras, so few lessons!  This past weekend, I took a digital photography class at the Cambridge Center for Adult Education and was reminded of how little formal knowledge I have about either digital or analog photography.  Thank goodness for affordable education.

Learning about ISO, fstops, aperture, all that . . .

Over exposed photo of instructor's computer

Fellow student in focus . . .
Cameras ready to shoot

Trying out the tricks on the way home.

Jamaica Pond sunset