Almost Autumn Back East

After spending a few days with my family in Massachusetts, Steve and I went to Washington, DC to see a dear friend who has just moved there. She has a wonderful apartment in a great old Beaux Arts building a great neighborhood with an amazing variety of splendid restaurants and stores are all within a block or two.

Friday she took us for a delicious meal at a Peruvian restaurant. The mango picso sour drink was tasty and potent. We all had beautifully presented fish, and dispensed with any dessert selection dilemma by sharing the three that sounded most appealing. It was a fantastic beginning to our DC adventure.

Saturday we drove to Annapolis and walked around the town. Unfortunately, a boat show was monopolizing the docks, so we couldn’t see any sail boats or the harbor. Much has changed since I made regular visits to Annapolis when I lived in Baltimore 19 years ago. Gone is Pendragon Gallery, but the country’s oldest State House is still majestic and the eighteenth century streets remind us we’re nowhere near Tucson.

Steve and me in Annapolis

Sunday we took the Metro to visit Steve’s friends Bill and Cheryl in Bethesda, a peaceful suburb just over the Maryland line.

After a terrific Indian meal, Steve and I started walking around looking for some live music. We didn’t find anything we wanted to hear, and kept walking until we were at the White House. I’d never seen it before, so I enjoyed that. For some reason, there’s a huge tent on the south lawn, ruining any photo ops.

The Washington Monument lured us to the Mall, where we saw another huge tent in front of the Capitol. The Lincoln Memorial was lit up at the west end of the Mall, so we headed in that direction. We read the Gettysburg Address and Lincoln’s Second Inaugural Address, which are engraved on the marble walls, and marveled at Lincoln’s powerful writing and the tremendous task he had of trying to reunite a country that was violently torn apart. Unlike the administration that started our current wars, he seemed to understand that war is a horrible monstrosity.

On Monday we finally got our bike ride in Rock Creek Park. Fortunately, many of the roads in the park are closed to traffic on Sundays and holidays, so thanks to Columbus, we enjoyed a car-free ride. It was a little cooler today, and the clouds prevented us from getting the best photos, but we did manage to find some leaves that were changing.

Cabin in Rock Creek Park.
One of the many alluring restaurants in DC is an Egyptian restaurant that had a great sampler: spicy fava beans, hummus, babaghanooj, the best moussaka ever, beet salad, garden salad, falafel, taboulli, spinach pie, grape leaves and pita for $8.95. So cheap we had to have baklava, too.

Prior to our DC adventure, we flew into Boston for a visit with my family. I persuaded Steve to stop for dinner in Boston. We parked at the Prudential Center, next to the Sheraton, and I realized this is where Ray Charles used to stay when he was in Boston. My sister was friends with him for years, and used to ride her motorcycle into the Sheraton garage when she visited him. Ray would then drive her motorcycle out of this very garage, dumbfounding all onlookers.

We wandered around Copley Square until we found Joe's American Bar and Grill and had a pretty good dinner. The mahogany pillars and plush old dining room reminded us we're not in Tucson anymore. The $35 we paid for two hours' parking wiped away any remaining delusions that we were home.

We visited my mother, who is adjusting much more easily than anyone expected to a safer, healthier and more social life in a nursing home. She was more alert and animated than I have seen her in years. We drove up to New Hampshire to see my brother-in-law Sam and my sister Bev, who was in day three of recovery from double knee replacement surgery. She was miserable, but really appreciated our visit, and is glad the surgery is over and she can now get on with her life.

We got the best family news when we took my brother Keith and his wife Fay to a lovely restaurant in a colonial house in Pomfret, Connecticut, their home town for the past ten years or more. Before dinner and after everyone had their wine or beer, Keith announced that he had just that day received the news that he has a new job. His three week job hunt was probably the shortest in recent history, but his success surprised no one. Still, it was such a treat to celebrate with them, so we had a bottle of champagne. And more amazing desserts.

Keith and Fay own a twenty year old house that looks like a much older farm house. They were surprised to hear that a tiny white-tailed deer bounded across their long drive way in front of us, and we saw his buddy staring at us from the woods. We used to see deer tip toeing through their wooded yard, which borders a state preserve, but they haven’t seen any deer for years.

We also got a chance to watch the antics of their five new kittens. Keith and Fay disagree about the number of cats they currently have. One says 17, the other says 19.

Now we’re flying home to Tucson. Much as I love Southwest Airlines, if you don’t have a computer and printer so you can print your boarding pass a day before flight, you will not be in a good position to board. We were the last two on the plane, and we’re not sitting next to each other. I am in the middle next to a big guy who is spilling into my seat, and Steve is next to a squalling baby.

Addendum: as it turns out, the baby’s mom is lucky Steve sat next to them instead of me. Steve says 18-month-old Ben kept him entertained through the whole flight. When Ben tried to charge off the plane without his mother, Steve scooped him up and held him until his mother had collected all the baby gear.

When we picked up our car at the most expensive lot at Tucson International (the new one with covered parking), our bill for eight days was $9 more than we paid for two hours in Boston. It's great to be home.

Frog Heaven

A few years ago my child hood friend Louellyn and her husband Ramiro bought a cabin on College Pond in Myles Standish State Forest near Plymouth, Massachusetts. Louellyn spends every possible minute there until the snow gets too deep for them to get to the cabin. She and Ramiro believe no one could ever need anything more than to drift in kayaks in the middle of the pond.









Louellyn has been raving about this transforming refuge and its dragonflies, turtles, birds and frogs for so long, she finally managed to persuade some of her high school friends to gather at Frog Heaven in June. Pat, Jane, Lynda and I joined Louellyn and Jane's ex sister-in-law Ora and sometimes Ramiro for a few lovely days of non-stop eating and catching up.















Massachusetts is experiencing The Year Without a Summer. We spent much of the first day I was there sitting on the porch watching the rain, which was relaxing and uplifting. All those negative ions always raise the spirits of this desert rat. A family of Canada Geese complete with five fuzzy grey half size goslings came by daily. Orioles and hummingbirds also made appearances, along with a rather alarming neon orange slug that came from under the porch.


I paddled around the perimeter of the pond early one morning by myself. Forty four cabins each have their own style and siting. Louellyn has been told that her 600 square foot cabin was the ice house for the main cabin next door. I decided Louellyn and Ramiro have the best sandy beach.

Louellyn knows at least one person in 40 of the 44 houses. It's easy to meet the neighbors. One man paddled by in his canoe and was invited to join us. He came up to the porch and had a drink. He spends his summers living on the pond and taking tourists out in the ocean for whale watches and fishing. In the winter, he does scallop research, I think in South America. I was delighted that he was able to answer a question that has baffled me since we had delicious scallops in New Zealand last year (see Same Days, Different Island). What's that beautiful crescent that tastes and looks like lobster and is hugging the scallop? Turns out, it's the scallop's gonads. If squeamishness over certain body parts is the only thing stopping Americans from knowing about the best part of the scallop, they ought to get over it.

Louellyn revels in the pond community and the fascinating people who share her love for it. They freely visit each other to share coffee, laughs and songs.

Motorized boats are not permitted on the pond, and no one will ever be allowed to install an indoor bathroom. A short hike up the pine needle path to the outhouse is part of the cabin's charm. I think the lack of a bathroom has the additional benefit of self-selecting a community that loves nature and rejects the nasty things that humans do to our world.

The frog pond behind the house is filled with reptilian singers of every range from deep croaks to whistles and peeps. It's quite mesmerizing.

Louellyn has set an admirable goal for the summer. She plans to try a different ice cream every day at Erickson's ice cream stand until she has tried all 44. Then she will allow herself to repeat. Such strenuous discipline is hard to maintain in such a tranquil place, but I've known Louellyn all my life and I am confident that she is up to the challenge. She proudly read us her ice cream diary, which starts with Memorial Day weekend. I got Maine Bear Berry one day and something with Oreo cookies the next. I would have a hard time ordering a sherbet or anything without chocolate, but apparently Louellyn is not similarly handicapped.


The Queen of Frog Heaven

After all the others had left, Louellyn and I took the kayaks out to the middle of the pond to have some time alone for the first time in many years. It was a calm, warm day and a turtle poked his nose above the water to check us out.

Now I want to lure these girls to Desert's Edge so they can see my version of paradise.

Margaritaville

"It's Sunday," Tracey suggested.
"Too much information," I retorted.
She apologized: "I guess you don't want to know what time it is."
Me: "Now you get it".


Sadie on the front porch of 907 White Street

We flopped into plastic Adirondack chairs close to the pier in the Key West marina to consider our strategy. We were sun burnt and brain dead after three hours of dolphin watching and snorkeling in the Gulf of Mexico. We went to Waterfront Market and marveled at all the exotic fish, spices and sounds. We got some salmon, rice and strawberries and headed back to 907 White Street, our home away from home.

And what a delightful home it is. We are renting a one bedroom apartment that takes up the whole first floor of a conch house. Tracey informed me a conch house has 1) a porch across the front. Check. 2) a tin roof. Check and 3) interior walls off exposed Dade County pine. Check. With wooden floors, granite counters in the kitchen and bath, lots of tile, high ceilings, and a private hot tub on the back porch, ours is pretty deluxe. A beautiful traveler's palm dominates the lush back yard. Geckos and lizards squiggle in the rustling trees.

Key West is sort of like Central America with better architecture and water you can drink. Roosters strut around the streets. Feral cats prowl for handouts. And the manana attitude is reversed here: the tourists are laid back and the people in the hospitality industry happily do their jobs correctly and on time. What a concept.


Tracey threatened to quit her job and move here. One of our many friendly cabbies told us she would then have to look for two jobs if she wanted to live here, and get a third if she wanted to leave.

Most tourists are enthusiastically embracing the Jimmy Buffett lifestyle. In fact, the original Margaritaville bar and merch is here. I brought Jimmy's "Volcano" to play in our conch house. Sounds just right here.


Tracey on the pedicab. Snake and macaw wranglers are common here.

We've been on the ocean twice. Sunday we were delighted to find that we were the only guests on a trip into the Gulf of Mexico led by captain Anna and her mate Bethany. In fact, at 9 AM, we even had the streets to ourselves. This was a good thing, because I left my wallet on a bench then stumbled away to take some photos. When I realized I was missing my wallet, I ran in a panic back to the bench where I'd left it and found it undisturbed next to some equally oblivious tourists.












The boat trip was a testosterone-free adventure. The snorkeling was okay. The advertisements for "The World's Third Longest Living Reef" are about 98% wrong. Pale fish darted around white coral graveyards. I only saw one giant brain coral with any color, a pale yellow. Not like my first snorkeling trip in Biscayne National Park in the mid '80s, which was worthy of a National Geographic photo shoot.


Dolphins came close to the boat.


Monday we had a more successful snorkeling cruise in the Atlantic. We were on a sailboat with about 18 other guests.



I have to give you my fish list. Black and white stoplight parrot fish, yellowtail damsel fish, four-eye butterfly fish, pork fish, blue striped grunt, yellow goat fish, rainbow parrot fish, great barracuda (about three feet long and slender; not at all scary looking), and comb jelly fish. I was pretty freaked out when I drifted into a school of those jelly fish. They looked like a cloud of clear, round plastic bags about three inches in diameter. I didn't know if they could sting, and I was surrounded by them before I saw them. With all the floundering I did to get away from them, if they could have stung me, they surely would have, but one of the crew said if they don't have tentacles, there's nothing to worry about.

I saw some purple sea fans waving on the coral, but not many. Also saw some southern sting rays, about three feet in diameter. The biggest surprise was a gigantic blue parrot fish, about two feet long. What a pucker-lipped beauty.

As we sailed back to the harbor, we drank sangria and watched the famous Key West sunset, which at least on that day offered no threat to a typical Tucson sunset.

We had two wonderful breakfasts at the famous Camille's restaurant. Both times I had a crab, asparagus and sun-dried tomato omelet. My M.O. has always been not to mess with perfection. Camille's is a sun-filled Caribbean-colored delight with quirky art work. We were especially intrigued by the extensive Barbie collection displayed in one window. Each Barbie was dressed in a variation on the S&M theme. One had a spiked collar, handcuffs and whip; another was wrapped in cellophane and suspended by chains from the window frame.



I have always liked the poetry and karma of Saint Francis of Assisi. I was startled to find this wooden plaque in the ladies' powder.




The first feline companion to adopt Steve and me was Shadow, a quietly dignified black gentlecat. Sunbeam is our current fiery red head, a flirty and talkative jokester. We certainly don't want to drive away the memory of our beloved Shadow, and our darling Sunbeam has not taken his place, but I was stunned and happy to see them both mentioned in the same sentence by this fellow animal lover.



Saint Paul's Episcopal Church is an impressive Gothic Revival structure elevated above Duval Street, dazzling white like cane sugar in the tropical sun. Built in 1912 with an open-timbered ceiling, it is the fourth church on the site. The original was built in 1834. A hurricane destroyed the 1909 church.



The Golden Cockerel Medallion window was installed in 1920 in memory of children of the Lumley family who died in 1907 and 1876. The Golden Cockerel symbolizes watchfulness and vigilance, and is also a reminder of Peter's three denials of Jesus. I just like it because it reminds me of the roosters who brazenly stroll around the sidewalks and plazas here.


Nothing is ordinary in Key West.

Notice that the gingerbread on the porch is actually gingerbread men!

Only in Key West. A sitar-playing Spiderman busking on Duval Street