A family of albino squirrels live on the grounds of one of our local hospitals.
Maybe they escaped from one of the research labs.
At 30,000 feet, I left the spring-line of Massachusetts
and passed through the snow-line to the northwest.
A couple more days back in San Francisco, where a friend took me to the very top of the bridge tower. A slow freight elevator no bigger than a phone booth carried us up. I am prohibited from posting photos of the structure at the top, but there are a few available from others online if one were to search. It was breath-taking and literally spine-tingling at 750 feet. Keep in mind that the road and sidewalk is only 250 feet above the water.
Back home in familiar territory, a lone daffodil welcomed us to a party at the MFA. After the party, I got a chance to visit some Saxon porcelain from the Meissen plant.
If you ever want to read a true tale of murder, espionage, Saxon intrigue, and shamelessly insatiable social climbing, the discovery of European porcelain is told in a surprisingly thrilling book by Janet Gleeson:
I think that I convinced porcelain enthusiast Reggie Darling to take up this book a few months ago.
Lost mittens from the winter that barely was.
An older widow neighbor of mine had me fix her screen door recently which was creaking loudly.
I gave it a spray of WD-40 and it was fine. I hadn't even noticed that I had forgotten the oil spray at her house. Three days later, she spotted me from her balcony during a sunny Boston day,
and called over to me in her operatic patois:
"Thank you for your help the other day, but you left your can of lubricant here."
Naturally, every neighbor on the block also heard,
and my wife bursting into laughter didn't help my case.
I added the "$20" because that is what I actually paid for it at the outlet in Charleston, SC. Readers of this blog likely already know that there is no chance in hell that I would have paid $115 for a piece of silk.
A ladybug and peapod tie by that great French silk-maker... a gift from Mrs.
80 degrees Fahrenheit in Boston today on March 21. The windows are open to the harbor's breeze and the cloudless blue sky, and a friend just arrived with a bottle Vintage Bourbon.