Category Archives: Environment

The environment, Newburyport, MA, the air, water, minerals, organisms, plants and other external factors surrounding and affecting the ecology and physical environment of Newburyport

Newburyport Ice is Us

I look out my window as the sun rises, and sure enough, my ice-phobic neurotic Newburyport nightmare has come about.

All that Newburyport rain at 10:30 last night, has frozen in a flash, and it’s a skating rink out there.

I debate whether it’s too early to call what must be one exhausted Newburyport Department of Public Works (DPW), but decide finally that I will either get a recording, or an exhausted Newburyport DPW person, but what do I have to lose, except an encounter with a totally exasperated and exhausted Newburyport DPW person. I decide to chance it.

I get a downright cheery sounding soul on the other end of the phone, who promises that the sand folks will come once again to our Newburyport neighborhood. I am relieved by this empathic response.

Examining the situation outside as the sun rises, I come to the conclusion that this is not black ice, that is a thin layer of slippery stuff, but instead, that this is gray ice, a thick layer of slippery stuff. My skeptical self doubts that it will melt in the next decade. The sun is barely slivered over the roof tops in my neighborhood, and I have already worked myself up into a total early morning dither.

I tell myself, “What a wuss. There are people without power for days, if not weeks because of really, really bad ice, and I am dithering about grey ice. And this wussiness is from a person, who sort of got to a semi-professional ice skating status. The jumps and twirls weren’t much, but they were still jumps and twirls on ice.”

And I tell myself that I used to literally sail onto the ice (of course I had ice skates on), but I would always pay attention to the fact that I was on ice, slippery stuff, and not somewhere else less slick.

So plan A) is in place. I put on my boots, bought at my favorite Newburyport boot shoe store up near the Newburyport grocery stores, at the other end of our small New England seacoast city. Boots that would make Nanook of the North proud. Pay major attention to where my feet are, scatter salt about hither and yon, and try to remember my former confident and carefree ice skating days.

School Snow Days

I wake up at 4AM. No snow, yet.

At 6:30 sharp, I hear 4 siren blasts signaling no school for the young men and women, children of all sorts, in the Newburyport Public School system. And I imagine all over our small New England seacoast city, mothers and fathers either saying, go back to sleep (and hoping everyone sleeps till about noon), or bundling up all and sundry and getting them to day-care, so that they themselves can begin, what weather forecasters forecast as being the commute from hell.

Parents all over the city wondering to themselves, in a cabin-fever winter, how to get through yet another Newburyport snow day. Children all over Newburyport, MA marveling in delight at yet another opportunity not to go to school, again, not realizing that in the joy of springtime, all those days will, of course, be added on to the Newburyport school calendar. But that reality is way, way in the future, a whole new far off season.

I look out the window and only tiny snow-flakes are falling, accumulation is therefore light. Not until later in the day when the temperature rises will Newburyport, New England be blessed with big fat snow flakes falling and accumulating rapidly. And then I gather we will be blessed by all that snow being soaked with ice and rain, and then dropping temperatures and a frozen white mess.

But for now, a day that promises some good hours of work, before the snow removal thing begins, and the wild dash to remove the fluffy stuff, before the ice and rain starts to fall.

On my walk the other day, I noticed that the light is changing, the way it starts to change in late September, signaling that the days will shortly get shorter. Only this time, it is the reverse.

It gets dark at 5:15 now instead of 4:30, and the sky has that promising pinkish huge at the end of the day.

And I imagine that parents and people all over Newburyport, New England, tell themselves that February is almost here, and that we must surely be on the backside of a long Newburyport, New England winter.

Slipping on the Ice

A friend of mine has a wonderful reminder for me when my brain is all aflutter, and the itty-bitty committee up there is whirling around in my head and has me either way far away in the future, or way back in the past. They ask me, “Mary, where are your feet?” And I look down and realize that my feet are right here in the present.

The question, “Mary where are your feet,” is especially apt during this icy Newburyport, New England winter moment that has come upon us. No matter how enthusiastic the shoveling, snow-blowing or plowing, in Newburyport, New England, ice is us.

And as I go for my walk, I take very literally the words, “Mary, where are your feet.” I try and make sure that they are definitely not on the slipper mine-fields of all those icy patches.

I hear more terrible tales of folks slipping on the New England, Newburyport ice, and elsewhere in New England, breaking or spraining stuff, especially the infamous bracing yourself while slipping on the ice and spraining or breaking the non-dominant wrist thing.

You have my condolences. It really and truly is awful.

I did the infamous brace yourself while falling and do major damage to your wrist thing a few winters ago. It’s amazing what I could not do with only one hand. I was flabbergasted how much I took that non-dominant appendage for granted.

A friend of mine who is a wonderful and kind human being, plus a licensed OT (occupational therapist) who nurtures some lucky, lucky children in the Massachusetts public school system, came up with one particular trick. I was told to use my toes. And yes, I sat on the floor, grabbing whatever it was that I would have grabbed with my non-dominant appendage, and grabbed the object in question with my toes. And God bless my friend the OT, the toe grabbing thing actually worked.

And boy have I ever been major careful since that incident. I spot a patch of ice, which seems to be all surrounding these days, and immediately go into the ancient human being shuffling mode. I figure better to go into the ancient human being shuffling mode, than spend a good amount of time again A) in distress and B) sitting on the floor, clutching stuff with my toes.

Icicles Are Us

Icicles are supposed to be beautiful, sort of like living chandeliers, but I have a vague remembrance of once being told that as far as Newburyport houses go, icicles are bad, bad, bad.

I’m not sure if this is true, but it actually makes sense to me, so I’ve decided it is true.

This is one of the reasons I use my trusty roof-rake (see previous post), so, among other reasons, I don’t have the dreaded (all though I’m not sure why) Newburyport icicle thing.

I stand out in my Newburyport driveway, look at my Newburyport roof, and despite having used my trusty Newburyport roof-rake, I still have icicles. This is a mystery. But I’ve decided that although slightly menacing and dagger like, they also so sort of do look like drippy little chandeliers about to bring down my roof gutters, so I decide to enjoy them, or as my son would say, “Mom, just forget about it–put it on the shelf.”

On the shelf, the icicle thing goes, that is until I go for my walk. Then I start noticing icicles all over my neighborhood.

And on one house the icicles look as if they are blowing sideways. I’m not kidding, not up and down icicles, but sideways icicles.

I stand in the middle of the road (it’s a rarely traveled, Newburyport one way street road) and examine this ambiguity. “Could it be that this particular Newburyport house is close to the water, and the icicles actual are blowing in the wind,” I think to myself.

But as I walk back to my dwelling, I actually find crooked icicles dangling here and there. And gasp, when I get back to my own house, I notice that I actually have one angled icicle. One angled icicle among many, many long nifty straight ones.

Now this really is inscrutable.

I suppose I could visit the World Wide Web and learn about this icicle mystery one day. But for now, I’ve just decided to take my son’s wise advice, and really and truly put the icicle thing “on the shelf,” and accept this odd icicle anomaly.

Painting and Newburyport Snow Removal

I find that I clear the snow out of my driveway the way I paint. I find this both weird, but at the same time, strangely reassuring.

When it didn’t snow in Newburyport, MA, what seems like every three to four days, and only snowed now and then, or some Newburyport winters not even at all, I never even noticed a pattern of snow driveway removal by moi.

Now when it snows in Newburyport, MA, I’m starting to go into auto pilot.

First I talk to the snow, “What you again?” “What is it this time? A few cute snowflakes mixed it with a dash of drizzly icy rain?” I might say to the stuff that’s falling or already landed.

It’s the first thing I do when I walk into my Newburyport studio in the morning. I talk to my paintings. “How are we do’n today?” “You look a whole lot better than you did last night.” That sort of thing.

The next thing I do is tackle the big snow picture. No details here. Only unlike painting, with snow, I have help. I have count’em, two neighbors with snow-blowers. God bless them.

So, I always hope that my Newburyport neighbors will actually tackle the big snow picture, before I get out there with my trusty shovel.

And then comes the details, just like in painting. I clean up the edges of the driveway, clear a path to the fire hydrant, make sure there is a nifty clearing to the storage shed. Oh, yes, and make sure the top of the car has no snow.

I learned the hard way, during one Newburyport winter from hell, the snow on the top of my car turned to ice, because I figured, who cares it can stay. But it fell forward in a block and dented my hood. Showed me. Now that snow is the first to go. Not going to make that mistake again.

And then the roof-rake. I’m starting to get real obsessive here, just like with my Newburyport paintings. I’ve offered my neighbor the use of my trusty roof-rake, but, their tool of choice is definitely the very efficient snow-blower. And who could possibly blame them.

And then the driveway and I have a major chat. “I want to see pavement,” I say, “No ice, no white stuff, no trampled snow. I want my mail person to have a nice stroll to the mail box, when they deliver the mail. Hear me?” I say this very quietly, so my neighbors don’t hear me talking to my Newburyport driveway.

And then, yes, I get out the dainty, but slightly beaten up broom at the end, just the way I end up using tiny little #000 brushes on my paintings. But I’m not painting gorgeous pictures containing green stuff and warm weather, I’m longing for green stuff and warm weather instead.

Rhododendron Weather Predicting Qualities

I don’t need to turn on the weather channel or peer at my web weather channel bookmark setting on my computer, to know in the morning when it’s New England cold outside.

When I wake up and my hands feel all crinkly and dry, I know it’s one of two thing. A) I’ve developed some mysterious fatal disease over the last 8 hours, or B) the humidity in the house has dropped because it’s freezing outside.

Since so far it has never been A) I usually figure it must be B).

After a few sips of coffee, I shuffle into my studio (where I’m also trying to madly expand Mary Baker Art by obsessively designing websites to be sent out into the world via the World Wide Web) and peer out my window at my trusty outdoor thermometer. And sure enough, it’s B), the wretched thing reads below 10 degrees, and it’s freezing outside.

I also learned to tell whether it was cold outside, without looking at an outdoor thermometer, by my Dad. As a young girl, by father would take me to the dinning room window, point at the loan rhododendron in the small yard next door, and point out that the leaves on the loan rhododendron were not perky, but shriveled and pointing straight down to the ground. Ergo, my father would point out, it was freezing outside and I better “bundle up.” Sure enough he was always right.

I’ve always been fond of rhododendrons. Maybe it’s the vast array of rhododendrons at Maudslay State Park here in Newburyport, that at one point were subjects of lots of paintings by me. Or, it could be the fond memories of my father’s rhododendron weather science predictions. Or it could be multi-determined.

I’ve planted all sorts of rhododendrons in my small Newburyport garden, and I peer at them on winter mornings, trying to guess the New England temperature, before I shuffle in and peer at my trusty outdoor weather thermometer. My rhododendrons, weather predicting wise, are always right on the money.

However, I’ve noticed that rhododendrons, landscaping wise, in Newburyport, Massachusetts, appear to be going out of fashion.

As I keep squeezing yet one more rhododendron plant in my now rhododendron filled small garden, I notice that huge, literally century old, magnificent and stately rhododendron plants are being hacked out of century old High Street magnificent gardens, not to mention lesser century old rhododendrons in “lesser” Newburyport destinations.

So, either I’m out of touch with new landscaping designs (which is highly probable), or the owners of the dwelling in which these gorgeous rhododendrons are being hacked down, don’t know about their weather predicting qualities. Or maybe they do know about their weather predicting qualities, but figure since they now live in the 21st century, they can watch the weather channel instead.

Newburyport Perpetual Winter

I’m still here you know.

I meet someone in the grocery store. Their face lights up with relief, huge hug, “You haven’t left,” they say. “You didn’t go to Minnesota.”

It’s nice to see their face light up.

Endomorphins from huge hugs are always appreciated.

But the “Minnesota” thing has me stumped. Maybe in the midst of yet another New England winter from hell, I might, might consider, possibly a stint in much warmer place like North Carolina, for instance. But Minnesota? As I recall from my vast readings of Laura Ingalls Wilder, winters in Minnesota are far worse than in Newburyport, Massachusetts.

I meet someone in CVS shortly after my very nice encounter in the grocery store. “You’re still here? We thought you’d left.” No, “How nice to see you.” Certainly no lighting up of any face. No, just a good old “Newburyport Yankee,” “You’re still here?”

Ah, what a relief. The “dichotomy” that is Newburyport appears to be very much around. The “dichotomy” that I’ve written about on the Newburyport Blog for now 3 years (good grief), poked at, mused over, tried to explain, is still very much part of the community in which I live. I find myself oddly relieved by this.

I like these “tough old birds.”

“Tough old bird,” was a “saying” that my Mother used to use. This was way before feminism was even quaintly fashionable. No one in their right mind would refer to any female these days as a “tough old bird.”

Where have I been? Obsessing over the sucky, let’s face it, yes, it’s beyond sucky, economy. Wondering (vast understatement) if anyone in their right mind would buy gorgeous paintings (I’m an artist), when even the very rich are losing their houses (or at least some of their houses).

So I’ve been designing “web stuff.” (Hopefully more on this later.) Thinking that it could be a good idea to expand “Mary Baker Art” to “web stuff.” I’ve been contemplating that websites could be works of art, launched into the universe by the World Wide Web, aka the Internet.

Yes, and what better project, I say to myself, than to design websites, during a sucky New England winter, that feels like something out of Narnia when that witch was in charge. It feels sometimes, like a frozen, perpetual “Ground Hog Day.”

One of my neighbors looks at me quizzically as I brush my front steps of snow (lots of snow) with a dainty, somewhat beat-up, broom. I tell them that it gives me hope that in the not too distant future, I will be complaining about wretchedly long hot summers (this is actually true).

They shrug (it’s a good thing that I’m an artist, I can pretty much get away with this kind of nonsense) and look at me as if I’m nuts.

North East View, Sarah Palin

My first impression when I saw the first appearance by John McCain and Sarah Palin, was that Sarah Palin made John McCain looked really, really old, and that John McCain looked, not like he was hugging his daughter, he looked like he was hugging his mistress, he made Sarah Palin look slutty.

This is exactly the sort of thing that the Obama campaign does not want anyone to mention.

Tough luck, it’s true.

How many years did we as a country obsess about Hillary Clinton’s hair. Aren’t we allowed to do the same with the new Republican VP pick without being accused of being sexist?

First introduction, too much hair and way too much make-up. My prediction, the hair is coming down (which it has), it will also get a lot flatter, no more possible hair pieces in the back. (I really don’t care if it sounds catty, it’s true). The hair high-lights are going to be toned way down, and a “trim” and a whole lot less hairspray and hair product. Honey, this ain’t Alaska anymore.

Honey, they want you to look “professional” bordering on frumpy. No “hot” or “sexy.” And let’s face it, the first impression was that she was a “babe.” My prediction is that the babe-alicious stuff is going to played way, way down. We could see this “gorgeous” woman, go to the frump-o-meter side of the scale.

Yes, untested Sarah Palin could bomb. Dems would be delighted. But, yes, she could also do really, really well. She’s already been a quick study, witness the hair coming down thing.

And if she does really, really well, look out America, this woman could be not the most conservative, formidable politician since Ronald Regan. From what I can tell she is way, way more conservative than Ronald Regan. Ronald Regan paid lip service to some of the stuff that flows happily and proudly through Sarah Palin’s vanes. This goes way beyond “more of the same,” this woman’s views are so rightwing that it’s just downright spooky.

Mother Nature, Newburyport Tropics

Mother Nature seems to be clairvoyant.

Last year in the Spring there were little trees of every species growing in my backyard/green-stuff. It was as if Mother Nature in a second-sighted way, wanted to make sure that if the big trees didn’t make it, well, there were tons of baby trees on the way.

And sure enough, last summer we had a drought. I remember blogging about how my backyard/green-stuff was all wilty, crispy and grey, and how no amount of watering seemed to help the crispy, wilty thing.

Not this year.

No, this year, very few little trees. And this year Newburyport is downright lush, and at times appears to be some version of the tropics.

The good news is that my backyard/green-stuff is a gorgeous shade of green. The bad news is that it feels as if it continuously rains and my house and neighborhood exist in a sponge-like location. Sometimes I wonder if my lawnmower, when it’s dry enough to actually lawn-mow, would sink into the saturated, soggy earth.

New England Churches Endangered

One only has to follow the trials and tribulations of Old South Church here in Newburyport, MA, to know that the historic structures of our beautiful New England churches could often be in mucho trouble.

And making the rounds of the rumor mill is that First Parish Church in Newbury, the one just over the border on Rt. 1A, is slated for a gut job, in the name of “going green,” in an attempt to stay spiritually alive.

Disclaimer: First Parish Church was my church for over 15 years (I was the Sunday School Superintendent, among other things, good grief!).

Because I still have very good friends at First Parish Church, I thought I would make a few phone calls and find out what the heck is going on.

So I did.

No news to anyone who has been vaguely involved in any New England church. Except for an occasional church here and there, the congregations of churches would be dwindling fast, and the maintenance of these historic buildings cost an amazing amount of money.

The church is not going to be gutted, or “sell all the old materials of the old church to restoration carpenters and rebuild a green smaller church on top of the existing basement” (First Parish Church Newsletter, July 2008).

Desperate enough to contemplate such an idea, but after talking to trusted friends, no, not going to happen.

However, it is this blogger’s opinion that this church, with all its history, needs to go on “Endangered Property” lists everywhere, in Massachusetts and Nationally.

So preservationists out there, if you care about New England icons, such as this gorgeous building, good grief, contact First Parish Church and help them submit the building to be put on the Preservation Massachusetts 10 Most Endangered Resource List, as an example of what would be happening to historic churches everywhere in New England. Much easier to write grants after such a designation could be given.

There are churches all over the place (the French Church on Federal Street readily comes to mind), that have been made into condominiums, and the property that goes along with it, often gets developed (often in sensitive ways, such as the Federal Street Overlay).

If that’s not something you want to see happen to this particularly historic icon, call and offer to help. Historic preservationists this is an SOS.

Activists Then and Now

Having written about Jim Roy’s activism in the community over decades, and taking a look at what SEED is doing (see previous post) and even thinking about my own activism, I had several thoughts.

It’s possible what we could be seeing in successful activism, a “new breed” of activists that no longer see themselves as “outside” the community, nor do they see themselves as “victims.”

One could see this with the Newburyport Preservation Trust (NPT) as well. The NPT is working with the Newburyport Chamber of Commerce, and it is also working with the City of Newburyport itself.

The emphasis is not that preservation is a victim of developers, but the emphasis would be that historic preservation would be vital to the local economy.

When we fought MassHighway in 1999, the emphasis was that our small New England city would be a victim of thoughtless bureaucracy.

When Al Decie and CEB fought for the Access Road (among many other things, see previous post), the folks fighting for the environment could be cast as victims of local business and politicians. And local business, it seems, could often complain of being “victimized” by CEB. Lots of drama.

In contrast, SEED has worked with the Newburyport Chamber of Commerce and has been embraced by the City of Newburyport, MA. They are seen as “non-political.”

Interesting.

Even recently, in the fight for the Override for our schools, last spring, the folks who were fighting for the school system, could be perceived by many as angry “victims,” who in turn could be “victimizing” other folks with their “demands.” And it appeared to not “sit pretty.”

The approach by SEED and the Newburyport Preservation Trust seems to be working. And they appear to be “unifying” instead of “divisive,” activists who are “non-activists,” who are “non-political.”

Activism without the appearance of “blame.” Activism without the appearance of “shame.” Activism without the appearance of a “guilt trip.”

Definitely a new possible prototype.

And it could have something to do with the time of Newburyport, MA. We seem to be through most of the transition (see previous post) from a blue collar, working class town, to a upper, upper-middle class destination, and there doesn’t appear to be as much tension (whether it would be good or bad) that once existed in Newburyport, MA.

Hot New England Days

Early in the morning I can tell how hot it might be by the color of my neighbor’s white house.

Disclaimer: An artist–I notice subtleties of color.

If the color is bluish, it most probably would be what my Mother would have called a “Blue Bird Day.” One of those clear, gorgeous, New England days, cloudless always in the morning, with sometimes puffy clouds accumulating in the afternoon.

If the color is a combination of “yellow” and “purple,” the day almost always seems to be what some New Englanders might call a “scach’a” or a scorching hot day. Muggy and hot.

Early this morning, yup, my neighbor’s house was a combination of “yellow” and “magenta (purple)” and yup, today is a scorcher.

Up early, early, early to enjoy the “cool of the day.”

I don’t like scorchers much, but I find that they prepare me for winter. By the end of August, I’m ready for those muggy days to end, and relish the cool days ahead.

But then, by January, if it’s a bad, bad winter, I’m complaining bitterly and putting up photos of snow.

So I’m going to put up a picture of snow, and slippery ice, and a grey freezing day now, so that I’ll appreciate the scorcher that is today.

Yucky picture of snow to remind me how much I actually enjoy green, lush, hot summer days.

Hot summer day. 

Newspapers in Trouble

Newspapers are in trouble, for all sorts of reasons, from cable news to the World Wide Web, other stuff, multi-determined, not exactly new news.

I was reminded of this yet again by my friend Frank Schaeffer’s piece on the Huffington Post on the very same subject.

Newspapers are caught in the middle between the old form of print and, trying to persuade their advertisers to pay the same price for advertising on the World Wide Web.

I happen to read almost all my news online now, because I figure I’m saving a whole lot of trees. My small contribution to going “green.” I got a Sunday paper and felt as if I had felled a forest. No forests felled by reading stuff on my computer.

As Frank Schaeffer points out, the World Wide Web is instant news.

For example I waited for the Newburyport Daily News to report today that, from what I understand, our mayor and the Newburyport City Council got “served” by the landfill owner. Huge story. Huge, huge story. Not in today’s Daily News, that I can find. So if you might not have heard about that possibility, you have now.

And Tom Salemi did an excellent job in writing up in almost real time, the fact that yes, whew, a miracle happened, the Newburyport City Council voted “Yes” to designated a site for the Senior Center at Cushing Park. If you haven’t read it, read it here. And Gillian Swart was on the case too. Good go’n.

And the fact that we are losing newspapers, and newspapers are cutting back like mad, is, at least in the short run, for me, real bad news. Because there is less and less really hard journalism going on. All of this is discussed earlier on the Newburyport Blog, in particular in regards to Bill Moyers’ amazing speech on the subject.

Frank Schaeffer is always fun to read, and I’m glad he’s switched over to the Huffington Post.

Thunderstorms

A couple of Sunday’s ago after one of the spectacular thunderstorms and downpours that we’ve been having lately, I drove up State Street (for those who do not live in Newburyport, State Street is the main street of our small, historic, seaport city) after the sun had set, and it was dark, downtown Newburyport glistened, as if it had just had just been washed, had had a shower from the gods.

And I thought to myself, as I looked at it as it sparkled, “And it isn’t even black ice, thank goodness.”

And I felt very grateful to live in this beautiful place.

I’ll admit, after been hit by lightening (while in a car) in a downpour, during a flash flood, while driving through Des Moines, Iowa, I’m slightly thunderstorm phobic. (What was I doing driving in a flash flood in Des Moines, Iowa? I was very young, and frankly, let’s admit it, not too bright.)

But lately, I’ve found that the thunderstorms, that we seem to be having on an almost regular basis this summer, remind me more of the summer thunderstorms when I was very young. Curled up inside, safe and warm with friends, listening to the thunder roll. Much better than flashbacks to flash floods.

SEED, and Newburyport’s Local Environment

I’ve watched the emergence of Newburyport’s Seacoast Energy & Environmental Design Coalition, (SEED) with great interest.

SEED has, wittingly or not wittingly, been very politically savvy. It also helps that the timing is “on the money.” It is finally politically correct to be “green.” And it doesn’t hurt either that our very own Al Gore shared the Nobel Peace Prize for building awareness about man made climate change. And even President Bush’s awareness on the “green” issue is sort of evolving.

While Al Decie and all the folks who worked with him in CEB (see previous posts), was ahead of his (and their ) time. And folks like David Hall was ahead of his time. The SEED folks have hit the timing just right (and as a btw, it appears that folks like David Hall [see many previous posts] are extremely pleased, as well as now being involved in the organization).

The organization also took an inclusive, pro-business, pro-Newburyport Chamber, non-adversarial, non-political approach, and it’s worked really, really well.

It is not an “Us vs Them” approach, the way so many of the activist groups in Newburyport have navigated for so many years. This new dichotomy appears to possibly be a new model for getting things done. It seems to be possible, in part, because of the new folks that have moved into town. But it is also embraced by new folks and folks who have been around for “a while.”

And basically, the cement, which is great activist cement, is that being “green” is economically good for everyone. And one of the things that I’ve learned as an activist, is that it’s much more effective to get things done, when the majority of folks are united, rather than at each other’s throats.

So although SEED is in so many ways non-political, and I don’t see anything on their website about this, and I can’t find (I could keep looking) anything on the web, it would be great if SEED could help Newburyport, MA out, by being very proactive in regards to the Newburyport Landfill. It would certainly tie in with their goal of protecting the environment. And I don’t know of anyone in Newburyport, MA who does not want to see the Landfill capped as soon as possible. So it would tie in with their approach of a unifying theme.

Al Decie, Newburyport Green

I miss Al Decie. And weirdly, or maybe not weirdly, there are a lot of people who would go “Al Decie, who?”

Al Decie, who left Newburyport not long ago, with very little fanfare, was in my opinion, one of the people who helped make Newburyport the desirable place that it is today.

Al Decie founded Citizens for Environmental Balance (CEB), way before it was fashionable (in fact one could possibly say that it was downright unfashionable) to be “green.” And one of Mr. Decie’s passions was the Newburyport Landfill. God Bless him.

I found an old post on Al Decie and CEB, on the Newburyport Blog, written by a CEB member here.

CEB and Mr. Decie had a wonderful website chock full of unbelievable information, including original documents, including the original “Host Agreement” for the Newburyport Landfill, that’s gotten us, as some believe, in so much trouble. And when Mr. Decie left, the site went down, and alas, all that great information went with it.

But, “A Ha.” Low and behold, I’ve come across a site that has the same (as well as updated documents) on the “Landfill Capping,” “The Common Pasture,” and the “Vernal Pools.” To see the site Little River Basin.org, press here. In fact it has a very detailed chronology of the whole mess (with a disclaimer) dated 5/1/08 here (PDF Version).

I don’t know who has resurrected the site (I have my suspicions). And if you really want to get the history of “Newburyport Green,” visit, LittleRiverBasin.org.

Landfill and Suffolk Superior Court

Relief for this blogger about the decision yesterday by the judge at the Suffolk Superior Court in Boston, to include Newburyport, MA in the negotiations for the Landfill, along with the DEP, the State Attorney General and the owner of the Crow Lane Landfill, New Ventures.

Well, whew.

Yes, it may cost more money in legal fees, but, in my mind, that would be money very wisely spent.

The worse thing would be for the City of Newburyport not to be included in the negotiations. Good grief.

So I’m proud of the Newburyport City Council for voting unanimously against the latest, in my mind, unacceptable proposal by the owner of the Landfill.

And I realize that legal bills make our mayor nervous (yes, legal bill are expensive and no fun), but taking the long view, it would be much more expensive for the people of Newburyport, MA to have accepted the most recent legal proposal by New Ventures (bringing in a lot more stuff, a whole lot more stuff to the landfill) and not push for the darn thing to be capped ASAP.

Kay Lazar on the Newburyport Landfill

Kay Lazar has written an awesome piece in today’s Boston Globe North on the Newburyport Landfill, its owner and the relationship to Everett, MA. The article is a must read, so press here to read it.

Kay Lazar is a first rate reporter, and when I called her last week, she said it was her last day as a reporter at Globe North, and that she is being moved to another beat on the Boston Globe.

One of the joys of doing the Newburyport Blog has been getting to know various editors and reporters at different newspapers and publications. And I first got to know Kay Lazar when she did a front page article, September 17, 2006, on blogs on the North Shore and she included the Newburyport Blog.

A friend of mine had told me to be very careful of reporters, that unless I said, “We are off the record, you agree,” and they did agree, I was on the record, you betcha, and anything I said could be used.

Not having known this, and having been quoted in not too flattering ways in various civic endeavors that had been reported on, I was mighty wary of reporters, you better believe it.

And when Kate Lazar showed up to interview me, I was mighty, mighty on my guard. But Kate could not have been more professional or kind. And after that article was published, and I realized that she could be trusted, I’d like to say that we became friends.

So I will miss Kate Lazar, and her trusted reporting on Newburyport, MA and the North Shore. And wish her all the luck in the world on her new beat. Can’t wait to see what she is going to do.

Newburyport Calm

With the exception of the ongoing Landfill fiasco (The Landfill owner threatening Newburyport with legal action if more “stuff,” a lot more stuff, would not be allowed to be brought in, thereby stretching the actual capping of the darn thing, and relief for the good people of Newburyport, MA, into who knows whenever. The Newburyport City Council voted unanimously, “no way,” but left the door open in an attempt to settle the retched, yes, pun intended, thing..) all appears to be pretty Ok on the Western or Eastern or Newburyport front.

It’s not July 4th yet, the tourists haven’t arrived in droves. School has just gotten out. The weather has been pretty Ok. It’s nice walking around town. The place is gorgeous. The new Newburyport City Council appears to be settling in, and the second term of Mayor John Moak is moving along (as far as I know), and Jim Roy is starting his own publication, to be out, according to his Letter to the Editor, at the end of this month–something to look forward to–colorful and entertaining political commentary. My.

And I am enthralled by national politics.

Yes, Hillary Clinton, as predicted by a tiny, tiny tidbit of political punditry, is looking as if she would support Barack Obama with class. (Yes, Newburyport voted for Barack Obama) So, whew. I figured the Democrats would get their act together, to try and win this thing.

If my Dad was around, he would love, love, love the “I told you so” stuff that is now coming, pouring out about the present administration in the White House. He knew it all along.

And I am really, really looking forward to seeing how this very, in my view, astute Democratic politician, candidate would go about going about and doing stuff. And I will be fascinated to see how Mr. McCain would fair.

After terror and then a desert of ineptitude, national politics looks like it could be fun again. Loving this.

A Robin’s Nest

While I was gone for a few days in the Spring, a pair of Robins built a nest in the tree right next to my front door.

In fact I could see the nest from the top step of my dwelling.

nest_1.jpg

Robin’s nest

I couldn’t figure out why, for a couple of days, I had some wildly angry Robins in a big maple tree right outside my house. I’d look out the window and it seemed as if they were “Robin heckling” me. And then I realized, they were pissed… I kept going right by their nest all the time. For goodness sakes, the audacity of moi.

But the location probably looked like a wonderful place for any sort of nest, if there just weren’t humans nearby. And when they built it, I guess they had not “cased the joint” very well, because humans, I guess, for a short time, were in short supply.

The Robins stuck it out for a while. After I would go inside, I’d peek out the window at the nest, and a Robin would be sitting, really, really camouflaged, on top of the eggs, blending in completely with the tree.

I was please. Perhaps the Robins and I had come to an understanding. I would not think of harming them, and they could go about their business of raising a Robin family.

But, alas, it was not so. After a day or two, the Robins gave up and abandoned the nest, and the unhatched eggs, and disappeared. But they’ve reappeared in my backyard lately, and I figure they have found a better place to build a more discrete nesting habitat.

And I think, if only they had done a little more Robin research, in deciding about their first nesting location, instead of jumping to the immediate conclusion that all was A-Ok, no humans in sight. There would be no abandoned eggs.

Or, if I only knew how to speak “Robin,” I could have assured them, that I would have most graciously welcomed them, and that I would have been more than delighted to watch a Robin family blossom right outside my abode.