Viking Days

6.16.18 ~ Viking Days at Mystic Seaport

Saturday we had perfect weather for Viking Days at Mystic Seaport.

6.16.18 ~ Viking Days at Mystic Seaport ~ Norwegian fjord horse
6.16.18 ~ Viking Days at Mystic Seaport ~ Norwegian fjord horse

We enjoyed strolling through the Viking encampment…

Draugar Vinlands is a historical reenactment and living history group based out of Exeter, New Hampshire that is dedicated to the accurate portrayal of combat and culture during viking-age Scandinavia.
~ Draugar Vinlands website

6.16.18 ~ Viking Days at Mystic Seaport

The costume of the Viking with the long pony tail (above) caught my eye and when I asked him if I could take his picture he posed for me. (below) 🙂

6.16.18 ~ Viking Days at Mystic Seaport
6.16.18 ~ Viking Days at Mystic Seaport
6.16.18 ~ Viking Days at Mystic Seaport

We stocked up on mead for summer solstice…

6.16.18 ~ Viking Days at Mystic Seaport

And stopped for lunch…

6.16.18 ~ Viking Days at Mystic Seaport

While we were eating (outside in the shade at a table under the trees) we spotted this artist painting…

6.16.18 ~ Viking Days at Mystic Seaport

Then we went to see a performance by Flock Theatre, “Viking Fact or Fiction?”

6.16.18 ~ Viking Days at Mystic Seaport ~ the spirit of a Viking ancestor come to straighten us out about our Viking misconceptions

And then Denison Pequotsepos Nature Center gave a talk about birds of prey. The Vikings were falconers but the birds we were shown are from Connecticut. All the birds presented were injured and brought to the nature center but were unable to live in the wild after their recovery.

6.16.18 ~ Viking Days at Mystic Seaport ~ screech owl
6.16.18 ~ Viking Days at Mystic Seaport ~ kestrel
6.16.18 ~ Viking Days at Mystic Seaport ~ short-eared owl
6.16.18 ~ Viking Days at Mystic Seaport ~ short-eared owl

And finally we listened to lovely “Songs of the Sagas” by Lynn Noel.

6.16.18 ~ Viking Days at Mystic Seaport ~ Gudrid the Wanderer portrayed by Lynn Noel.

We had hoped to attend a lecture and book-signing with author James L. Nelson about the 300-year Viking invasion in Ireland, but, alas, the hall was filled to capacity by the time we arrived and they were not allowing any more people in. However, we bought two of his books and left them there for him to sign after the lecture. We can pick them up later. (I have a small collection of books signed by the author.)

It was such a lovely day. Now we brace ourselves for a very hot and humid day, although it looks like it won’t be as bad here on the shoreline as it will be inland. Some schools have already announced early dismissals and there is an air quality alert. Looks like the air conditioner will be going on today… I will miss all the birds singing… Sigh…

Inch (Ínse)

2.4.18 ~ Inch Beach, Kerry, Ireland ~ a family enjoying a ride on the beach

Next stop was Inch Beach! Another location where part of Ryan’s Daughter was filmed.

2.4.18 ~ Inch Beach, Kerry, Ireland ~ the scenery was indeed breathtaking

Inch or Ínse meaning Sea Meadow (Oilean Ínse – Island of Inch) is best known for its impressive Blue Flag beach. It offers miles of golden sand and breathtaking scenery showcasing mountain, beach, valley and sea. Standing on the beach, the 360 degree panoramic view before you encompasses the McGillycuddy Reeks, Rossbeigh Beach and the northern shores of the Ring of Kerry, Dingle Bay and the Atlantic Ocean, the Slieve Mish Mountains which form the backbone of the Dingle Peninsula and the magnificent sand dunes that stretch along this amazing sand spit. A majestic setting, which has inspired artists, poets, writers and was chosen as the location for the Hollywood films Ryan’s Daughter and Playboy of the Western World.
~ GoKerry website

2.4.18 ~ Inch Beach, Kerry, Ireland ~ another adventure with her Papa
2.4.18 ~ Inch Beach, Kerry, Ireland ~ sand, sea and sky as far as the eye can see
2.4.18 ~ Inch Beach, Kerry, Ireland
2.4.18 ~ Inch Beach, Kerry, Ireland ~ drawing on the sand with Papa
2.4.18 ~ Inch Beach, Kerry, Ireland ~ amazing vistas even if my family was all looking down for shells
2.4.18 ~ Inch Beach, Kerry, Ireland ~ it’s good to know there is still much beauty left on earth
2.4.18 ~ Inch Beach, Kerry, Ireland ~ uncounted shells, beauty in the small details
2.4.18 ~ Inch Beach, Kerry, Ireland ~ time to turn around and walk all the way back to find lunch in the restaurant on the right

After a nice long meandering walk on Inch Beach we had lunch in a crowded beach restaurant. The parking lot was full so some cars were parked right on the sand. And so we were off to our next destination where I encountered my first Irish forest.

Upon the Waves of the World

Dennis’ 400 sea captains earned their living upon the waves of the world. Their journeys took them to faraway lands inhabited by exotic peoples. Years, sometimes a good part of a decade would go by before they returned home to see family and friends. Yet this is the life they chose. Perhaps the spray and smell and salt of the ocean was in their blood, calling them from the rooted land to journey upon the rising and falling waves of the sea.
~ Jack Sheedy
(Dennis Journal)

My grandmother loved telling me stories about her own grandfather and often reminded me that the sea was in my blood. I’m pretty sure it was this sea captain who took his second wife with him on a few of his voyages and bought her a “monkey” in some foreign land. Apparently the creature was a “holy terror” on the ship but she adored him.

My 2nd-great-grandfather, Capt. Martin Edward Thompson, firstborn son of Martin and Ann Isabella (Hughs) Thompson, was born 4 August 1850 in Dennis (Barnstable) Massachusetts, and died in 1928. He married (as his first wife) 5 July 1874 in Harwich (Barnstable) Massachusetts, Elisabeth Emma “Lizzie” Freeman, who was born 4 September 1851 in Harwich, and died there 4 October 1876, daughter of Warren and Elisabeth (Weekes) Freeman.

Martin was named after his father, a Norwegian immigrant, and followed in his footsteps, becoming a Master Mariner and captain of the schooner Nellie Lamphear. He also served on coasting vessels, tug boats, and was licensed to enter any port in the world. In 1910 he was elected port warden of Boston by the Boston Marine Society, the oldest association of sea captains in the world.

Elisabeth died of a “stoppage” when she was 25 years old and her baby son was only 18 months old. Her gravestone is inscribed:

Fled O forever from our view
A dear daughter, wife and mother, too:
She was a treasure lent, not given:
To be called away from Earth to Heaven.
Life to her looked bright and joyous
And her home was very dear:
To the summons of her Savior,
She gently yielded without fear.

1880 Captain Martin E. Thompson House, Dennis Port

The 1880 census indicates that, now a widower, Martin was living with his parents and his young son. Five years after Lizzie’s death, Martin married (as his second wife) her younger sister, Rosilla Ida “Rosie” Freeman, 23 February 1882 in Dennis. Rosie was born 6 March 1856 in Harwich, and died 18 March 1923, without children. In 1900, Martin and Rosilla were living as lodgers in the house of Nancy H. Merrill in Lynn, Massachusetts.

Beverly, Barbara and our cousin Matthew with Nellie’s carriage

Martin owned a beloved horse named Nellie (named after his schooner or vice versa?) who lived in the barn at 114 Depot St. in Dennis. He gave his granddaughter, my grandmother, her first three cars. According to my grandfather, Martin and his granddaughter Thommie worshiped each other. The first car was a Model T that had to have the carbon scraped every week. The next was a 2-door sedan Model T. Martin lies buried with his second wife, Rosilla, in Swan Lake Cemetery in Dennis, and Emma, his first wife, is buried in the same cemetery but in another lot with his parents and other members of his family.

Elisabeth & Martin were the parents of one son:

1. Capt. Martin Freeman Thompson (my great-grandfather), born 29 March 1875 in Harwich, died 13 July 1965 in Dennis. He married 1 February 1900 in Dennis, Amanda Eliza Hamblin, who was born there 2 August 1879 and died 6 July 1966 in Taunton (Bristol) Massachusetts, daughter of Capt. William Nelson and Anna Eliza (Baker) Hamblin. Martin & Amanda were the parents of one daughter.

In 1964 my grandparents inherited and moved into Martin’s house at 114 Depot Street, along with my great-grandparents, who they were caring for. Some of our happiest family memories were made there. My dear cousin Matthew bought the house in 2001 after our grandfather died. He renovated the place, keeping its historical integrity and was awarded a certificate of appreciation from the Dennis Historical Commission in 2005. Sadly, the house had to be sold in 2009.

white flowers of the night

mykolapymonenko-ukrainian-night-1905
“Ukrainian Night” by Mykola Pymonenko

But here there was not a sound, and the air was scented with the white flowers of the night. It was a night so beautiful that your soul seemed hardly able to bear the prison of the body.
~ W. Somerset Maugham
(The Moon & Sixpence)

Night, the beloved. Night, when words fade and things come alive. When the destructive analysis of day is done, and all that is truly important becomes whole and sound again. When man reassembles his fragmentary self and grows with the calm of a tree.
~ Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
(Flight to Arras)

Flåm

5.24.15.7752

Morning light in Flåm, Norway, looking off the balcony of our hotel room. (above) Morning is my favorite time of day and this particular morning we did not have to rush off to catch a train or a ferry or a bus so we could enjoy a a few leisurely hours in the village before our next adventure.

5.24.15.7755
good morning! ~ friendly little curious bird
5.24.15.7767
later on we would cross this bridge on a bus to get to a long tunnel to Gudvangen
5.24.15.7772
it didn’t take me long to find a few gulls

5.24.15.7783

5.24.15.7796
entrance to Ægir Brewery & Pub, where we had dinner the night before
5.24.15.7800
wood carvings in a dead tree near our hotel

5.24.15.7804

5.24.15.7806

5.24.15.7808
so many lovely birch trees
5.24.15.7810
Ægir Brewery & Pub ~ it’s only open for dinner
5.24.15.7812
Flåmsbrygga Hotel, the warmth of knotty pine floors and doors
5.24.15.7813
Ægir Brewery, sign above entrance
5.24.15.7815
Tim on a little stone seat sticking out of the wall of the Flåmstova Restaurant
5.24.15.7819
wall in the Flåmstova Restaurant, where we had breakfast
5.24.15.7821
ceiling in the Flåmstova Restaurant

5.24.15.7824

While we were eating breakfast by a picture window, enjoying the view of garden, fjord and mountain, a cruise ship very slowly pulled into port! Then we could barely see the mountain over the top of it! Cruise ships are amazingly large – Flåm was such a tiny port I am sure it couldn’t possibly accommodate more than one of them at a time.

5.24.15.7838
I still can’t get over how it was spring on the fjord and winter in the mountains
5.24.15.7853
there was a hiking path up through the farms hugging the side of the mountain
5.24.15.7859
wish we had time to hike up there, but the zoom lens came in handy to capture this scene

5.24.15.7843

We boarded a small bus to take us through the mountains to Gudvangen. This is the entrance to Flenja Tunnel (above) which is 5,053m long. (16,578′). We came out of it for only 500m (1,640′) before entering Gudvanga Tunnel, which is 11,428m (7.1 mi) long, Norway’s second longest road tunnel.

Next stop: Ferry ride on Nærøyfjord from Gudvangen back to Flåm.

a sap run

3.10.13 ~ Orange, Massachusetts
3.10.13 ~ Orange, Massachusetts

Before the bud swells, before the grass springs, before the plow is started, comes the sugar harvest. It is the sequel of the bitter frost; a sap run is the sweet goodbye of winter.
~ John Burroughs
(Signs & Seasons)

3.10.13 ~ Orange, Massachusetts
3.10.13 ~ Orange, Massachusetts

We had no idea what a treat we were in for when we checked into a motel in Orange, Massachusetts Saturday night. Our plan was to spend the night, grab a breakfast somewhere, and head over to a family reunion in the neighboring town of Athol on Sunday afternoon. In the morning we discovered a great place to have breakfast, on Johnson’s Farm, a restaurant, sugar house, and gift shop! Maple syrup production was well under way, the old-fashioned way.

3.10.13 ~ Orange, Massachusetts
3.10.13 ~ Orange, Massachusetts

Sugar weather is crisp weather. How the tin buckets glisten in the gray woods; how the robins laugh; how the nuthatches call; how lightly the thin blue smoke rises among the trees! The squirrels are out of their dens; the migrating waterfowls are streaming northward; the sheep and cattle look wistfully toward the bare fields; the tide of the season, in fact, is just beginning to rise.
~ John Burroughs
(Signs & Seasons)

If only some way could be found to share the smell of New England in maple sugar season on a blog post! Our olfactory receptors were tickled with delight to whiff in the aromas of wood-burning stoves and sap boiling down into syrup. We bought a couple of jugs of pure maple syrup! Mostly we’ll be using it in marinades, since pancakes are no longer on our grain-free diet…

3.10.13 ~ Orange, Massachusetts
3.10.13 ~ Orange, Massachusetts

It was if we had been transported back in time to a place in the heart of New England. It made me appreciate anew that there are more “seasons” than the four four we normally notice as the year goes around. The gnarly old tree in the above picture caught our attention – what an amazing life it has had. And I loved the knotty pine interior of the sugar house in the picture below – so typical of New England.

3.10.13 ~ Orange, Massachusetts
3.10.13 ~ Orange, Massachusetts

When we got home Sunday night Zoë and Scarby seemed a little angry with us (ears pinned back, ignoring us) for leaving them overnight, but they’re back to purring and following us around, rubbing our legs and talking to us again.

maintaining the soul

“The Last Furrow” by Henry Herbert La Thangue
“The Last Furrow” by Henry Herbert La Thangue

Earth laughs in flowers, to see her boastful boys
Earth-proud, proud of the earth which is not theirs;
Who steer the plough, but cannot steer their feet
Clear of the grave.
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
(Hamatreya)

It was not meant that the soul should cultivate the earth, but that the earth should educate and maintain the soul.
~ Margaret Fuller
(Memoirs)

woods fill up with snow

“Winter” by Ivan Shishkin
“Winter” by Ivan Shishkin

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

~ Robert Frost
(Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening)

Connecticut Renaissance Faire

9.24.11 ~ Hebron, Connecticut
9.24.11 ~ Hebron, Connecticut

Last Saturday we braved the unseasonal heat and humidity and visited the Connecticut Renaissance Faire in Hebron, Connecticut.

9.24.11 ~ Hebron, Connecticut
9.24.11 ~ Hebron, Connecticut

We saw a silk aerialist on one stage:

9.24.11 ~ Hebron, Connecticut
9.24.11 ~ Hebron, Connecticut

Then we were approached by this self-proclaimed fool who invited us to see his duel on another stage. I said we would come if he’d allow me to take his picture. He posed willingly.

9.24.11 ~ Hebron, Connecticut
9.24.11 ~ Hebron, Connecticut

We watched another show on the stage shown below, from a distance, while eating our lunch in the shade. Not sure what it was all about – there was a lot of splashing and towel snapping – no doubt they were poking fun at the man they coaxed up there from the audience.

9.24.11 ~ Hebron, Connecticut
9.24.11 ~ Hebron, Connecticut

There were costumes to be seen everywhere…

9.24.11 ~ Hebron, Connecticut
9.24.11 ~ Hebron, Connecticut

But our favorite part of the day was the falconry demonstration. I’m not sure how I feel about this sport, but the falconer explained that their birds were rescue birds and that they would have perished in the wild. In theory these birds of prey could fly away if they were unhappy with their lot in life.

9.24.11 ~ Hebron, Connecticut
9.24.11 ~ Hebron, Connecticut

I was thrilled to be so close to these beautiful creatures, but my camera was getting a workout trying to zoom in and out to get pictures of them up close and far away. This falconer was very accommodating and kept pausing in front of me so I could get a shot.

9.24.11 ~ Hebron, Connecticut
9.24.11 ~ Hebron, Connecticut

I got the sense that these falconers love and respect their birds of prey. They seemed genuinely interested in educating the public about their natural behavior. No unnatural or coerced circus tricks here.