chickadee, titmouse, junco

Up and away for life! be fleet!-
The frost-king ties my fumbling feet,
Sings in my ears, my hands are stones,
Curdles the blood to the marble bones,
Tugs at the heart-strings, numbs the sense,
And hems in life with narrowing fence.
Well, in this broad bed lie and sleep,-
The punctual stars will vigil keep,-
Embalmed by purifying cold;
The winds shall sing their dead-march old,
The snow is no ignoble shroud,
The moon thy mourner, and the cloud.
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
(The Titmouse)

George Weekes & Deborah Wing

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10.12.15 ~ Island Pond Cemetery, Harwich, Massachusetts

GEORGE WEEKES.
Born in Dorchester Mass.
A.D. 1683.
Came to Harwich, Married
Deborah Wing: Oct. 13, 1714.
Preached to the Indians.
Perished in a snow storm,
when an old man in the
hollow 100 rods south of
this spot. He was grand-
son of George Weekes, a Hu-
guenot, who fled to England
and came to America in
1630.

My 7th great-grandfather, George Weekes, son of Ammiel and Abigail (Trescott) Weekes, was probably born on 20 March 1689 in Dorchester-Boston (Suffolk) Massachusetts, according to town records, although his gravestone says he was born in 1683, and died in April 1772. He married on 13 October 1714, Deborah Wing, who was born 2 May 1687 in Harwich (Barnstable) Massachusetts, and died there 9 February 1726, daughter of Ananias and Hannah (Tilton) Wing.

It seems that George was a widower for 46 years. Deborah died soon after the birth and death of her seventh child. It’s fascinating that George was most noted for preaching to the Indians. And of course, for the tragic way he died. Researching my family’s history I have discovered that many of my ancestors were deeply involved in various kinds of religious fomentation. According to this gravestone George’s grandfather was a Huguenot, a French Protestant inspired by the writings of John Calvin.

The following is from Wing Family Annals, Vol. 52, No. 1, edited by Grace Wing Barnes (Clinton, Iowa, Wing Family of America, Inc., 1952) pg. 13,14

George Weekes had lived in Boston, but in 1714 removed to Harwich. He was dismissed from the Old South Church in Boston March 27, 1720, and joined the church at Harwich (north side) under the care of Rev. Nathaniel Stone. He afterwards removed to the south part of the town, where many of his descendants now live, and where he carried on a farm.

George Weekes was not “liberally” educated, but was well versed in the theological books of the day, and was familiar with the scriptures. In 1730, though not ordained by human hands, he commenced preaching to the Indians, who were located toward the south and far removed from the the meeting house, which was on the north side of the parish of 23 square miles. Mr. Weekes built a house of worship for the Indians at his own expense. Notwithstanding these facts, the pastor, Mr. Stone, objected, but does not appear to have insisted on a discontiniuance. Learning, however, that Mr. Weekes on one or more occasions preached to some of his white neighbors, who, no doubt, were glad to assemble occasionally on a week day or stormy Sunday for religious instruction and conference, being as they were so far removed from their regular place of worship, Mr. Stone vigorously protested and complained to the church in regard to the matter. His grounds of complaint were that Mr. Weekes had “no more if so much as an early common education,” that he “had thrust himself into the meeting,” that he “had preached to a people of whol I have the pastoral charge, without my leave and against my declared mind.” There does not appear to have been any charge of want of orthodoxy. Some years later, Mr. Weekes seems to have taken pity upon an unfortunate woman and taken her with her child into his house. Some took offense at this and would not come to the Lord’s table with him, in view of which state of feeling he absented himself from communion. On being called to account for his absence, he made explanations which were accepted by the church as in a measure satisfactory, but at the same time he was advised to dismiss the woman from his house and to avoid “her conversations as much as convenient.” There seems to have been no charge against him of impropriety. In the later years of his life, his mind was clouded, which led to aimless wanderings about the country. He died from exposure to the cold in the low ground south of Harwich Academy, known from the circumstance as “Weekes’ Hollow” to the present day — being more than 80 years old.

A sermon preached by Mr. Weekes in 1726, on occasion of the remarkable preservation of Ebenezer Taylor, who was buried for ten hours in a deep well, has been recently reprinted, with an essay entitled, “A Parent’s Advice to his children, in which he declaims and argues very earnestly against the great sin of wearing periwigs and of extravagance of dress.

Deborah & George were the parents of seven children, all born in Harwich:

1. Abigail Weekes, born 29 August 1715.

2. Mehitable Weekes, born 21 April 1717, died 24 June 1750 in Harwich. She married there, 28 October 1736, Eleazer Robbins, who was born about 1715 and died 15 July 1785. Mehitable & Eleazer were the parents of five children.

3. Deborah Weekes, born 26 July 1718, died 22 May 1761 in (Dutchess) New York. She married (as his second wife) 6 February 1739 in Harwich, William Penney, who was born 27 May 1716 in Harwich, and died 21 February 1786 in Fredericksburgh (Putnam) New York. Deborah & William were the parents of two sons.

4. Dea. Ammiel Weekes (my 6th-great-grandfather), born 10 April 1720, died 12 February 1804. He married 12 February 1742 in Harwich, Phebe Small, who was born there 12 October 1717, and died there 21 April 1793, daughter of Jonathan and Damaris (Winslow) Small. Ammiel & Phebe were the parents of six children.

5. Hannah Weekes, born 21 September 1721. She married (as his first wife) 2 March 1742 in Harwich, Jonathan Small, who was born there 26 May 1721, and died about 1810, son of Jonathan and Damaris (Winslow) Small. Hannah & Jonathan were the parents of five children.

6. Elizabeth Weekes, born 16 September 1724.

7. an unnamed son, born 24 January 1726, died soon after.

George Weekes (1689-1772)
Dea. Ammiel Weekes (1720-1804)
Isaac Weekes (1747-1792)
Isaac Weekes (1780-1841)
Elisabeth Weekes (1822-1908)
Elisabeth Emma Freeman (1851-1876)
Capt. Martin Freeman Thompson (1875-1965)
Emma Freeman Thompson (my grandmother)

Last Revised: 9 March 2021

Flåm Railway

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After we got off the train at Myrdal, we got onto the Flåm Railway (Flåmsbana), “a steep railway taking you past spectacular waterfalls, in and out of snow-capped mountains and ending up by the Aurlandsfjord.” The little village of Flåm is 2838′ (865m) below Myrdal and the train ride took about an hour.

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There was a stop along the ride where we were allowed to get off the train and take pictures of the Kjosfossen Waterfall. Both ends of the train were still part way in the tunnels. Norway seems to be the land of tunnels and waterfalls, and presumably, trolls.

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Kjosfossen Waterfall
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The total fall is 738′ (225m). In the picture below there is a woman in a red dress who came out of nowhere to sing and dance for the passengers. She gives a little perspective about the size of this magnificent waterfall.

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Huldra, an elusive forest spirit from Norse mythology
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back on the train and more scenic glimpses
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yours truly (cold, but having the time of my life!)
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the little farm is in the late afternoon shadow of a nearby mountain
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Apparently Norway is home to nine of the world’s 20 highest waterfalls. High or low, we found them cascading out of the mountains everywhere. No matter how many we saw they continued to dazzle us with their allure.

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When we arrived in Flåm, we checked in at the Flåmsbrygga Hotel and then had a scrumptious Viking-style dinner at the Ægir Brewery & Pub. It was very late when we headed for bed, yet it was still light out. The picture above was taken from our hotel balcony and was the last breathtaking scene I savored before falling asleep.

In winter I get up at night
And dress by yellow candle-light.
In summer, quite the other way,
I have to go to bed by day.
~ Robert Louis Stevenson
(A Child’s Garden of Verses)

Bergen Railway

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5.23.15 ~ Hardangervidda, Norway

On May 23rd we took the Bergen Railway (Bergensbanen) from Oslo (altitude 75′, 23m) to Myrdal (2,844′, 867m). The line crosses the Hardanger Plateau of Norway (Hardangervidda) at 4,058′ (1,237m) above sea level.

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5.23.15 ~ Hardangervidda, Norway

All these pictures were taken through the window glass from the train. Some by me and some by Tim. The scenery was so utterly breathtaking we took turns trying to capture it on camera and then sitting back to enjoy the panorama for a spell.

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5.23.15 ~ Hardangervidda, Norway

I was starting to get the feeling I was unprepared for the weather on this trip. Many passengers were bundled up in winter clothing and some got off at various stops carrying their skis. Apparently Norway was also having a late and cold spring.

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5.23.15 ~ Hardangervidda, Norway

Little did we know that there had been an avalanche the night before which was blocking the track between Myrdal and Bergen. No one was hurt. It didn’t affect us, though, because we were getting off in Myrdal. But I think everyone going to Bergen got off in Myrdal, too, and made the next train ride down to Flåm more crowded than it otherwise might have been.

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wondered if this person lives here year-round or if this is a vacation home
5.23.15 ~ Hardangervidda, Norway
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5.23.15 ~ Hardangervidda, Norway
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5.23.15 ~ Hardangervidda, Norway
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5.23.15 ~ Hardangervidda, Norway
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5.23.15 ~ Hardangervidda, Norway
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5.23.15 ~ Hardangervidda, Norway
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5.23.15 ~ Hardangervidda, Norway
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5.23.15 ~ Hardangervidda, Norway
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5.23.15 ~ Hardangervidda, Norway
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5.23.15 ~ Hardangervidda, Norway
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5.23.15 ~ Hardangervidda, Norway
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one of my favorite shots ~ 5.23.15 ~ Hardangervidda, Norway
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trying to imagine living here ~ 5.23.15 ~ Hardangervidda, Norway
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turf roofs ~ 5.23.15 ~ Hardangervidda, Norway
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5.23.15 ~ Hardangervidda, Norway
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5.23.15 ~ Hardangervidda, Norway
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look how deep the snow is on the sides of the plowed road
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there was some amazing snowlight
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snowed in? ~ 5.23.15 ~ Hardangervidda, Norway
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5.23.15 ~ Hardangervidda, Norway

As dreamy as the scenery was, when we got off the train at Myrdal Station it was startlingly COLD!!! Fortunately we didn’t have to wait too long for the next train.

Next stop: Flåm Railway from Myrdal to Flåm.

our children

Dennisport, Massachusetts
1880 Capt. Martin E. Thompson House
Dennisport, Massachusetts ~ photo by Larisa Rodgers

Once we meet our children, even for moments, in a place of “I don’t know,” of relinquished authority, we return to the realms of mystery and magic, where real connection becomes alive again.
~ Arjuna Ardagh
(The Translucent Revolution)

Well, it’s official, February was the coldest month on record in Connecticut. And it was the third snowiest, but I suspect it may have set a record for the amount of snow that didn’t melt between storms. I have not seen my garden since January 27. And March came in like a lion, with six inches of snow Sunday overnight into Monday. Incredibly we have more snow due this afternoon and another batch due Thursday… So much talk about the weather these days…

below zero

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how gulls hunker down in frigid temperatures
2.16.15 ~ Eastern Point Beach

Oh the snow fell without a break
Buffalo died in the frozen fields you know
Through the coldest winter in almost fourteen years
I couldn’t believe you kept a smile
~ Rod Stewart
♫ (Mandolin Wind) ♫

the rocks where the oystercatchers made their nest last summer...
the rocks where the oystercatchers made their nest last summer

Cabin fever drove us out of our “cabin” yesterday. It was way too bitterly cold and windy to take a walk, so we drove around all morning, had lunch at our favorite restaurant, and then drove around some more. To get some shots I would hop out of the car for a few seconds, but mostly I rolled down the window to shoot. Even with layers the cold was bone-chilling…

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First we went down to the beach where a small circle was plowed into the parking lot. The gulls looked miserable – they usually are standing when resting, even in winter, but this was the first time I’ve seen them hunker down like this. Sadly, I’m guessing some of them won’t make it through the winter.

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Beach Pond was frozen over and starkly beautiful
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As I write this it is snowing yet again – the sight of it gently falling brings me pleasure but I must confess to struggling with restlessness and lethargy this winter, an odd combination, but there it is…

...abandoned nest...
abandoned nest

Over lunch we talked about our plans for Katie’s upcoming weekend visit in March. We’ll take her to see the beach where her mother grew up, and to our favorite restaurant to show her off to the servers there. It’s nice to have things to look forward to, even while savoring the moments here and now.

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More pictures will be coming when I get a chance to post again…

one true home

theodorkittelsen.february
“February” by Theodor Kittelsen

This is the most beautiful place on Earth. There are many such places. Every man, every woman, carries in heart and mind the image of the ideal place, the right place, the one true home, known or unknown, actual or visionary….
~ Edward Abbey
(Desert Solitaire)

birds in the blizzard

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1.27.15 ~ Groton, Connecticut

Come, ye cold winds! at January’s call,
On whistling wings; and with white flakes bestrew
The earth.
~ John Ruskin
(The Poems of John Ruskin, Volume 1)

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1.27.15 ~ Groton, Connecticut

Blizzard Colbie gave us 22 24 inches of snow. I have been waiting for some decent snow this winter and it finally arrived. Zoë and I had a delightful afternoon watching the birds feeding in the snow on our balcony.

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an odd couple ~ 1.27.15 ~ Groton, Connecticut
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1.27.15 ~ Groton, Connecticut

Tim sets up a webcam when it snows up here, so our kids in Georgia and North Carolina can watch the storm as it progresses. Nate, who has loved the color red since he was a baby, pinged me to let me know I had a cardinal out there. I already knew that, but it warmed my heart to know that he is still partial to all things red.

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an angry looking jay,
perhaps because I didn’t put out peanuts in the shells for him
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this cardinal seemed to be eating snow all afternoon
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Tim liked this picture a lot so I included it here
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oh how I love my friendly, inquisitive mourning doves
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a sweet little junco, he captivated Zoë’s attention for quite a while
1.27.15 ~ Groton, Connecticut
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1.27.15 ~ Groton, Connecticut

They still have not come to plow the parking lot of our complex and I’m wondering what the hold up is. Tim returned from doing some volunteer work at the Red Cross shelter and got stuck in the entrance to the driveway. Fortunately our very kind neighbors dug him out and created a parking space for him, too. All the neighbors’ cars are still buried.

Edit – the morning after – the final snow total for Groton was 24 inches! The town of Thompson got 33.5 inches!