Last weekend I went with Tim to the Connecticut MG Club’s ‘British by the Sea’ Gathering. I liked the blue MGB GT (above), the color, knowing nothing of cars… Tim, however, was hoping to see a Triumph Herald, his first set of wheels, but came away disappointed.
He did enjoy looking at the 1947 MG (above). I couldn’t help wondering if he has a thing for red vehicles from 1947! (Take a peek at the 1947 Ford Pickup he was admiring a couple of months ago in this post: with fields of lavender)
This tiny Wolseley Hornet Mk III (above) caught Tim’s eye because he said he had never heard of Wolseley Motors before…
I was amused by the sticker placed on one of its windows, indicating the auto was actually its actual size. 🤣
The above buggy was made in 1937 and had only three wheels.
After we browsed for a while I noticed some flowers peeping over the hedge surrounding the nearby cutting garden. We took a little detour to get a few end-of-summer snapshots!
Back at home…
… on Monday I started and finished the above 300-piece puzzle in one afternoon. With all the practice I’ve been getting during the pandemic it seems I’m getting faster and am developing a marked preference for Charles Wysocki jigsaw puzzles.
On Wednesday the remnants of Hurricane Ida arrived, and by the time she left Thursday morning, had dumped 5 inches of rain on us. When I looked out the window early Wednesday afternoon I spotted a mourning dove hunkering down for the storm in one of the arborvitaes.
Each time I looked over the next several hours he was still sitting there in the same place and position. Finally, just before dark, he was gone. We heard some thunder rumbling in the night but thankfully no tornadoes or flash flooding in our neck of the woods.
As imperceptibly as Grief The Summer lapsed away — Too imperceptible at last To seem like Perfidy — A Quietness distilled As Twilight long begun, Or Nature spending with herself Sequestered Afternoon — The Dusk drew earlier in — The Morning foreign shone — A courteous, yet harrowing Grace, As Guest, that would be gone — And thus, without a Wing Or service of a Keel Our Summer made her light escape Into the Beautiful — ~ Emily Dickinson (The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #935)
Woke up this morning under a hurricane watch. The path of Tropical Storm Henri is inching ever closer to us. Bob Maxon, my favorite weekday morning meteorologist, tells us that the last hurricane to make landfall in Connecticut was Gloria in 1985 and the last to make landfall in New England, was Bob in 1991. Right now Henri is making a beeline to Narragansett, Rhode Island, one county away from us. Last night it was aiming for Buzzards Bay, Cape Cod, Massachusetts. (Even though the outer bands of Hurricane/Superstorm Sandy hit us hard in 2012 it never made landfall here.)
This may be the first time I ride out a hurricane with my husband at home. Both times in the past his employment kept him at work for the duration. For Gloria, the kids and I evacuated to my parents’ house, 45 miles inland. I was pregnant with the baby I lost a month later. For Bob, we evacuated to a friend’s house about 8 miles inland. It was only three months after my mother died. This one will probably arrive as a category 1 hurricane so we probably won’t need to evacuate. Tim’s retired now. I suppose we will be glued to the TV and our laptops until we lose power…
Between the humidity, alarming pandemic numbers and medical appointments, it’s been a very long week. But Sunday evening we did take a saunter through the heaviness at Avery Point and enjoyed taking a few pictures. My blogging motivation is pretty low so I’ve been dragging my heels about getting around to sharing them.
I do love my beach roses and the light this time of year is flawless…
I also saw signs of autumn approaching, reminding me of the pleasure I had last year exploring the woods, taking so many pictures in the cool, crisp fall air.
Rough weather ahead for Sunday! Time to batten down the hatches…
Air quality alerts, heat advisories, ugh… We came out of our nest twice yesterday, once to go to the farmers market and after supper down to the beach. Not much going on there and we didn’t stay long because of the oppressive humidity. Walking was a struggle. No sea breeze…
When we heard some vigorous splashing we looked over in the river to see a gull taking a bath. Was he cleaning off or cooling down? I’m amazed these pictures came out at all!
And then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a tiny least sandpiper running around on the sand. He’s only six inches long and this is the only picture that came out! So cute!
Back inside, we’ve been working on jigsaw puzzles again…
For our walk on Wednesday we went to Wilcox Park to enjoy another nice weather day. It was cloudy but not humid yet — yay! (And no poison ivy!)
“The people shall have a park.” So saying, in 1898 Harriet Wilcox purchased and donated to the Memorial and Library association the seven acre Rowse Babcock estate in the heart of Westerly’s business district. Established as a memorial to her husband Stephen Wilcox, the moving force behind the building of the library, the park was expanded through several smaller additions until 1905. At this time, the purchase of the adjacent nine acre Brown estate essentially fixed the park’s boundaries as we know them today. … Wilcox Park features a beautiful landscape defined by an open meadow area with surrounding trees, a fish pond, monuments and perennial gardens. ~ Wilcox Park website
This white oak, above and below, is the oldest tree in Wilcox Park. The second picture is taken from the top of a hill. We climbed many granite steps to get to the top of the hill on the steep side, and then followed a path down the more sloping other side.
This solitary little pink water lily caught my eye from a distance. When we got close to the pond to take its picture we were subjected to a disturbing tirade from a windbag pontificating against masks and vaccines. Talk about shattering a peaceful scene. Ignoring the know-it-all, we quickly moved on to the other end of the park.
I don’t think we were the only ones who had fled the scene. There were lots more people strolling around near the lovely gardens where we ended up.
On the way home from the park we could see an osprey sitting in a nest on the osprey platform in the marsh in Paffard Woods, a preserve of the Avalonia Land Conservancy. By the time we pulled safely off the road it had flown away but we waited a while and then the osprey came back. My camera’s poor zoom lens was maxed out and overworked again!
In the last picture it looks to me like it’s trying to decide if another stick with moss on it is needed to finish off the project. A much more pleasant ending to our outing.
The most exciting part of Saturday’s adventure was spotting a black vulture perched on top of the water tower at Harkness Memorial State Park. A new bird for me!
Black Vulture Caragyps atratus: Uncommon but increasing southern species. Rare and local breeder. Favors traprock and other ridges. ~ Frank Gallo (Birding in Connecticut)
Since my Birding in Connecticut book has a life list I decided to mark and count up the birds I’ve seen and noted on my blog, plus the common birds I see here all the time. That makes this one #66. 🙂
I checked my mother’s life list to see if/when she saw a black vulture and it was December 23, 1970. I bet we were in Florida for Christmas. 😉 I called my sister and she used to see lots of them when she lived in New Mexico in the 1990s. I’m kind of astonished by all my bird sightings this summer. I never know what to expect when we go out.
We’ve been having some gorgeous weather, comfortable temperatures and dry air! Blue skies. 🙂 Saturday we saw dozens of butterflies and hundreds of bees in the gardens at Harkness Memorial State Park and took many many pictures. Sometimes there are simply no words left to describe the beauty… Enjoy!
She’ll come at dusky first of day, White over yellow harvest’s song. Upon her dewy rainbow way She shall be beautiful and strong. The lidless eye of noon shall spray Tan on her ankles in the hay, Shall kiss her brown the whole day long.
I’ll know her in the windrows, tall Above the crickets of the hay. I’ll know her when her odd eyes fall, One May-blue, one November-grey. I’ll watch her from the red barn wall Take down her rusty scythe, and call, And I will follow her away.