BOLD SQUIRRELS

The squirrels in this park are no joke. They will come right up to you and steal your cookie.

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The day before we left Boston, Michael and I bought some cheese, bread, a bag of grapes and a bottle of wine. We rode the bus for forty five minutes to get out to Castle Island where we walked in the Atlantic ocean along the beach. Then we bought a basket of fried clams and found a picnic table in a shady spot. We spread out our picnic and spent the afternoon grazing and drinking wine straight from the bottle because we forgot to pack glasses. After we washed the last grape down with the last of the wine, we loaded up and made our way back to our hotel room for a break from the heat.

Then it rained.

By the time we headed out to dinner that evening, the rain had stopped but the temperatures had dropped so that the evening was cool and pleasant. We decided to walk over to Boston Common after dinner and explore the park. We entered the Boston Public Garden first and I wandered over to take pictures of the pond while Michael wandered over to the water fountains. When I looked up to find him, he was standing there surrounded by squirrels and birds. It was like he’d just turned into a Disney princess. He looked at me and said “What is happening?” I slowely walked towards him and said “I don’t know, but it’s something pretty magical.” Turns out, the squirrels in this park are practically tame. You don’t even have to have a treat. All you have to do is get down on their level and hold out your hand like you have a treat. They will come right up to you. If you have treats, they will sit on your lap and eat them. I’m not talking about one or two squirrels here. Every squirrel in the park was bold as brass and would steel the cookies right from your baby’s fat little fingers. There are signs all over the park asking patrons to please not feed the birds, but nothing about not feeding the squirrels.

The park might need to rethink their “do not feed” signs.

Boston Common is Boston’s version of Central Park, though it is not near the size. At one point the Common housed Colonial militia, held victory gardens during the first World War, was a site for anti war and civil rights rallies and even the Pope performed mass there in 1979. Before all of that, the park was a place for the people of Boston to walk and for cattle to graze. If you go there as the sun is setting, the last few rays of the sun hit the tall buildings of downtown Boston so that they all look like they are coated in polished brass. It is a lovely sight to see. If you go though, beware of the squirrels or at least pack extra treats for them.

OUT OF TOWNER

The ghost of Paul Revere

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I have managed to be out of town every August 1st since 2006. I didn’t realize this until Michael said something about the date while we ate our last lobster (lobstah) rolls of our Boston trip. He said “Is today a bad date?” “It’s not a great one” I replied while shoving a giant piece of lobster meat into my mouth. This was all I said on the subject. For our last day in Boston, the temperatures dropped to the high seventies. All week long, until that day, we were in the middle of a sweltering heat wave. It wasn’t a big deal for me because I spent most of the first four days of our trip in conference rooms listening to developmental biology talks. Michael, on the other hand, had two-shirt days. Really three-shirt days, but he didn’t pack enough t-shirts for that. We thought it would be cooler when we took a day trip up to Salem, but that turned out to be the hottest day. Some poor park ranger drew the short straw and was stuck out on the replica tall ship at the Maritime National Historic site. They had provided him with a tent like shelter and he refused to leave his square of shade to even point out where the masts are usually placed on the ship. It was so hot that I felt like I was sweating between my fingers, so I don’t blame that unlucky park ranger for refusing to leave his square of shade.

The best thing about that day, about the whole trip really, was the ferry ride we took back to Boston. Michael sat down at a table inside the ferry and we dumped our backpacks. He looked at me and said “go do what you need to do.” I swapped out lenses on my camera and headed outside where I was able to position myself at the very front of the ship. The ferry maneuvered it’s way out of the harbor and then began to pick up speed. Then we were speeding across the Atlantic and there I was at the very front of the ship feeling the full effect of racing across the water. I stood there with the wind hitting me full blast, snapping terrible pictures and practically giggling with joy. When Michael finally came out to find me, I turned to look at him with this giant grin on my face. “THIS IS AMAZING!” I yelled at him to be heard over the wind and sound of the engine. I am usually hesitant about getting on big boats. It is not from a fear of drowning, but more from a fear of boredom. It all stems from that one time Dad and I got trapped on a paddle boat ride up the Mississippi. Dad was not a good swimmer, but thought that even he could swim faster than the boat we were on. We both fantasized of jumping overboard. But this ferry? Dad would have loved this ride.

I wonder how Dad felt about fried clams. I ate enough of them for the both of us.

As we made our way through security to board our flight home, Michael got caught up in the security check point. Something about him that day lit up all the bells on the scanner. His luggage got scanned twice and he received a personal pat down from a TSA officer. It was not a big deal. We had plenty of time to kill before our flight any way. After he finally made it through, we were settled on a bench repacking his stuff and I kind of chuckled. I looked at him sideways and said “J was totally just fucking with you.” Michael was curious as to why I thought this, but I didn’t have the best explanation for him. It just felt like something J had a hand in. I could almost see him standing next to one of the TSA officers with a wicked grin on his face as he whispered in the officer’s ear “why don’t you recheck that bag.”

August is a weird month.

Ghosts are everywhere.

RADIO SILENCE

Good morning, Boston. #Boston

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Here's what happened. I went to Boston last week for a conference where I heard about lots of interesting science. So much science that my brain is leaking through my nose. I came back from Boston with a head cold/sinus infection or maybe the Ziki virus. Something unpleasant has settled into my sinuses and my white blood cells are super angry about it. They are at war! I think they're using swords because something just stabbed the inside of my left eye. Any way, I feel sort of apathetic about writing anything down mostly because I end up staring off into Mucinex space. 

Boston is the most historical city in the United States. Maybe not the most, but it's got to be one the most. The whole city is practically a National Park and I walked my dang feet off. I stood at the site of the Boston Massacre. I stood at the window that lead out onto the balcony where they first read the Declaration of Independence to the public. I saw JFK's sailboat and Paul Revere's house and replicas of boats involved with the Boston Tea Party. I ate at least one lobster roll a day. Boston is pretty fantastic.