Category Archives: Stuff

Stuff that is happening in Newburyport, MA, matter, material, articles, activities of a specified or indeterminate kind that is being referred to, indicated, or implied.

Yankee Homecoming Road Race

One of my favorite things about Yankee Homecoming in Newburyport, MA is the 10M and 5K Road Race, which is tonight, Tuesday July 29, 2008, starting at 6:25 PM at the Newburyport High School.

(The race is great provided that you are not trying to get out or into Newburyport during the time of the race, don’t have a must get to appointment in Newburyport, or have gone into labor.)

All the traffic is cleared from the course, the streets are quiet and filled with excitement. The neighbors come out of their houses, and folks get to see each other and chat.

And the first runners that come are so graceful and so beautiful and make running look so effortless. Every year they take my breath away.

Every runner, for me, is heroic. And I am so proud of all of them. And the crowds cheer for everyone.

And one of the things that I like the best, is that often the very last runner gets the biggest cheers of all. So many of us can relate to wanting to have the shear gumption and drive and courage to run the race, and would be proud to finish anywhere at all, including dead last.

Political Journals, Time and Place

When Tom Ryan came to town and started his local political journal in 1996, Newburyport, MA was somewhere between “at the beginning” and “in the middle” of a very interesting transition. A transition from a working class, blue collar town, to a professional, upper to upper middleclass destination.

Newburyport had literally rebuilt its downtown from destitution, and that renaissance had begun to spread gradually to the rest of the city. In 20/20 it was almost certain that it would become the desirable place to live, work, visit and play, that it is today.

Lisa Mead, a then Newburyport City Councilor, an intelligent, strong, interesting, young woman, became mayor, and started (consciously or unconsciously, probably a little bit of both) to move the city from its blue collar sensibility.

And folks didn’t like that, and there were some very strong and colorful characters who resisted Mayor Mead with vigor.

Tom Ryan, really and truly, had some real life drama to write about. He not only created a “niche” for himself and the Undertoad, but he was in the right place at the right time, with a gift for chronically a story, in a compelling way, that was gradually unfolding.

Not only did Tom Ryan have the talent for telling dramatic stories of Newburyport’s “heroes” and “villains” (see previous post), but he also had some real interesting folks and times to write about.

The dramatic internal struggles and power-plays that Tom Ryan wrote about in earlier years, seem to me, to be pretty much mitigated. A lot of the very colorful characters, might now occasionally, verging on never, make a “guest appearance.”

It seems to me (and I could definitely be wrong here) that this could make it more difficult for local journals (and blogs) to engage folks in the story and the issues of our small New England seaport city.

And, ironically, for me, Jim Roy, the editor of the latest political journal, The Newburyport Liberator, could be one of the most colorful characters in town.

Local Political Journals

In the previous post I talked about Jim Roy and his new journal, The Newburyport Liberator, which hopes to engage people in issues in Newburyport, MA.

The Newburyport Liberator definitely follows, in almost everyone’s opinion, including Jim Roy’s, in the footsteps of Tom Ryan’s political journal of 11 years, The Undertoad.

The Undertoad talked about issues, certainly. It also talked about people. And Tom Ryan had a knack for creating very entertaining drama, “heroes” and “villains,” twice a month, out of, let’s face it, for the most part, pretty ordinary folks and pretty mundane lives.

Our little seacoast town, every two weeks, was the subject of compelling drama. Joe or Josephina citizen of Newburyport, MA, could be elevated to a “hero” or a “villain,” or an accomplice to one or the other. It was riveting stuff. People bought it, because, who knew, “villainy” or “heroism” might befall or enfold about the person you might be talking to over grapes at your local grocery store.

The ordinary folks of Newburyport, MA, became “important,” frequently way larger than real life.

Often it was like reading a local tabloid, all about Newburyport, MA. And in between all that drama, Mr. Ryan also talked about issues. In between reading about the “good guys and the “bad guys,” one also learned about how government was run, who was on the city boards, who was your Newburyport City Councilor, what were the compelling issues that the people of Newburyport were fighting for. It was the stuff that one might have read, or glanced at or yawned about or ignored in one’s local print media.

Do folks pay attention about who is on a local city board or committee when it is reported in our local print media? Rarely.

But if those same people were mentioned in the Undertoad, “villains” or “heroes,” folks were engaged. They remembered those ordinary folks, because they remembered the story that could be enfolding about or around them.

The stories of ordinary folks, raised to high drama, were the hook that got people interested in reading about the issues that affected their lives.

The caveat was that folks didn’t mind being the “hero.” But they sure didn’t like it if they, or their friends or loved ones, actually became the “villain.”

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.�

Ghost Town

It felt like a ghost town to me in Newburyport, MA over the 4th of July weekend. (And this is from a blogger who was “remarking” that it was “tourist season.” Does she stand corrected? Good grief.)

I asked someone else if they thought that could be true, and they said that they thought that it felt like that all over.

My.

I went downtown on the 4th of July in the afternoon. I went into one of the shops to say, “Hello,” and the shopkeeper came outside, because no one was in the shop at all, to look around town to see if other people might be having the same experience as they were.

After barely waiting for an ice cream cone, I had a choice of 3 empty benches in the shade on Market Square, in the middle of the afternoon. I told my friend this, and the reply was, “3 benches? Empty? That never happens.”

And usually, if I would be coming from the South End of Newburyport, MA, on a holiday weekend, traffic would be backed up on High Street by the State and High Street light, and it usually could take 3 lights to get through.

Not this weekend for moi. No problemo.

My friend speculated that it could be the price of gasoline, and prices in general. Homemade picnics rather than eating out. Last years clothes, rather than a happy summer spending spree. People staying put, rather than riding around and using gasoline.

I have been acclimated to the “tourist crunch.” In fact complaining about tourists is often seen as a secret, or not so secret Newburyport past time, or guilty pleasure.

I’m not use to all that “quiet” in Newburyport, MA on a major holiday weekend. Wow.

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.

Pulling a New Yorker in Newburyport MA

Pulling a “New Yorker” in Newburyport, MA.

Good grief it is good to see The Newburyport Blog up and running correctly again. Whew!

(Please press here to go back to the main page of the Newburyport Blog if you are not on the main page already.)

After 2 weeks of being told by the hosting company that the blog was going to be just fine shortly–Nada, Zip, same old frustrating technical difficulties.

Oy veh. What to do?

Switch hosting companies, or summon the energy to throw a “New Yorker.”

(For those of you who have been reading the Newburyport Blog for a while now, back in November 2007 I wrote a post called Political Rules of Accomplishment that explains what a “New Yorker” might be. I was going to call the post “Rules of Engagement,” but then I realized that there was a TV sitcom by that name, so that title was out.)

I’ve been with this particular hosting company since the birth of my website, and I’m a sentimental sap when it comes to switching. So I summon up lots of energy and write one off the wall, angry, boy am I going to make your life miserable, message. And felt very sorry for the poor, probably underpaid techie who got the darn thing.

But, for the moment, throwing that darn “New Yorker” worked (I think, I hope). And I wrote the techie who made it happen a nice “thank you so much” note.

And as a PS. When the blog was completely down and I was at my wits end, I contacted some folks here in Newburyport called iMarc and got an email back right away saying they would be more than happy to help me and the Newburyport Blog.

I figured out the “why the Newburyport Blog wasn’t coming up at all stuff” in the end all by myself, and ended up not needing their help (yet). However, their thoughtfulness was a ray of sunshine in a dark, frustrating, technical difficulty day.

iMarc is a very successful small web firm located on Inn Street in Newburyport, MA. At one point after I discovered them on the web, I went over just to say “hello.” And I continue to be mucho impressed by these young, smart Newburyport entrepreneurs.

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.

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.

Missing in Action

I’ve been missing in blogosphere action for a while. A sad amount of posts for the month of May.

But, personal stuff, due to the death of my Dad (along with lots and lots of technical difficulties, like the blog not even showing up at all, good grief, see previous post) has kept me off my blogger feed. We’ll just see how things go. And I appreciate the calls and emails checking in to see if everything is/was Ok. Thank you. That was very kind.

And, I’ve also been fascinated by what has been happening on the national political scene. A Democratic candidate, finally. Whew.

I love national politics. (It’s one of the things I miss talking with my Dad about. I have so many questions I’d like to run by him.) Part of the reason I started a local Newburyport blog, back in January 2006, was that I was so discouraged about what was happening on the national stage. (And there were lots of other reasons too.)

But now I am interested, really, really interested again. And I’m looking forward to how the whole thing will unfold.

And there are lots of things to say since I’ve been gone from the blogosphere. But the thing that most readily comes to mind, is that I miss Jim Roy’s column in the Newburyport Current. I hardly glance at the Newburyport Current now, it just seems so lifeless without his voice (which I didn’t necessarily agree with all the time, but I sure did enjoy reading it). Bring back Jim Roy, blustery fellow that he is. I know that I’m not the only one that misses him. (Editor’s Note: Blogger minds think alike! Tom Salemi over at the Newburyport Posts, just said the same thing! Love when that happens.)

The Newburyport Blog, Technical Difficulties

(Editor’s Note: The Newburyport Blog is no longer having technical difficulties. Please press here to go back to the main page of the Newburyport Blog if you are not there already. Thank you so much for your patience.)

One of the things that I’ve been reading in the local blogosphere is why don’t I have “comments” and why do I have a “Testimonial Page.”

Well, it’s a long story, and maybe the one good thing about the “technical difficulties” that the Newburyport Blog has been experiencing (because, of the server, and it’s worldwide, and it’s going to take a couple of weeks to fix, maybe, and that’s why the last pages are now showing up first on the Newburyport Blog) is that if folks are really curious as to why there are no “comments” and there is a “Testimonial Page,” the story of how that all came about, can be found on the beginning of Newburyport Blog (which is the “Home Page,” for the moment, because of technical difficulties–can you tell I’m pissed, because I am really pissed) and through the first 10 months of the Newburyport Blog’s history.

There is no longer the quaint “guidelines for posting” or the “Newburyport Political Blog Overview and Information” page (although there sure is the “Disclaimer” page). And the goal of giving “people, besides myself, a forum for expressing their feelings on different subjects” concerning Newburyport, backfired big time (all of how that happened is told on the blog itself). And, yes, the Newburyport Blog has evolved into mainly my own voice and my own entries, with the very, very occasional “guest blogger.”

And in the beginning, folks thought I was nuts to have a blog, most people had never heard of blogs. But now we have lots and lots and lots of local blogs, on a whole lot of subjects, from a variety of different points of view. So, the Newburyport Blog is no longer the anomaly it once was, and has lots of company in the local blogosphere.

Mary Eaton
Newburyport
(And maybe, I no longer need to sign my name, because I no longer have lots and lots of folks posting. But I’ve been doing it for so long that it’s become sort a comforting habit. The posts could seem naked without it. No one has questioned that one, that I know of, in the local blogosphere. I’ll mull it over.)

My Gold Finches are Back

My finches, my beautiful self-sustaining pets, Gold Finches are back!

It seemed to me that every year around October, all of a sudden after a mad feeding frenzy, where we all would go through a good bag of finch food a week, poof, they were gone, and didn’t come back until around Mother’s Day the following spring.

But a kind and faithful reader of the Newburyport Blog, emailed me that no, my finches were still about, and to keep the finch food out for the winter, and I would see my pretty little friends, for sure. And this was reinforced by another local bird lover. So, I put my finch food feeder out for the winter, where I could get to it, and replenish it on a regular basis.

But alas, no finches. The finch food never went down. Just stayed dismally the way it was for the whole winter. Alack.

And when the snow melted, I moved my finch feeder to a spot which I thought might be more finch conducive, but, “Oh dear,” still no finches.

I was beginning to think I had lousy finch food.

I thought I spotted a Gold Finch yesterday by the birdbath. The brightest, daffodil colored speck. And here they are, back again at the beginning of May, just the way they always arrive, right on time. So far, two “couples.” And maybe more may come.

Mary Eaton
Newburyport

Curiosity, Money, Happiness

One of the things that I do have, is a very curious nature.

I’ll wake up one morning, and go, “Oh, I don’t know anything at all about ‘X,’ how can I find out or learn about ‘X’ (short of going and getting a degree on the subject).”

And bless the Internet, because, if I feel like it, I can learn a whole lot about a whole lot of stuff, and it’s really fun for me.

One of the things that I’ve decided that I know “nada” about is business and finance, and it’s high time I learned something about the subject. (Maybe it’s Mr. Karp coming to town. Maybe it’s the continuous municipal mess so many cities and towns, including Newburyport, find ourselves in. Whatever it is, I got real curious.)

So I have several neophyte sources that I go to, Yahoo Finance, MarketWatch and the Huffington Post. They all have links to various articles on various subjects on the subject.

People get MBA’s in this stuff, so (yes, I know) without an MBA I’ll be in kindergarten on this subject for the rest of my life, the “fluff” of Yahoo Finance sound-bites being my teacher.

BUT, I’ve come across a Yahoo Finance person that I really like a lot–Laura Rowley, who writes articles on how money affects people psychologically. And her latest article “Money & Happiness” I like a lot, a whole lot.

“The study (you’ll have to read the article) underscores the importance of separating temporary euphoria from genuine happiness. I subscribe to Aristotle’s notion of eudaimonia — which is translated from the Greek as “happiness,” but is probably closer to the word “flourishing.” And long-term flourishing requires discipline, persistence, hard work, faith, and, most important, pursuing goals that are close to your heart and based on your personal gifts.

This isn’t the smiley-face, instant-gratification kind of “happiness” that popular culture promotes. As Thomas Carlyle once said, ‘There is something higher than happiness, and that is blessedness.’ ”

And after reading that again, maybe it’s my frustration with our “Paris Hilton world” (see lots of other posts). And in reading this, it’s nice to see happiness equated with “discipline,” faith,” “persistence” and “blessedness.”

Love that. Love that a lot.

Mary Eaton
Newburyport

Bland and Colorless

I think one of the things that saddens me about Newburyport’s growing “fluidity” (see earlier post) is it’s growing blandness.

One of the things that I like so much about “Newburyport According to X” is that it reflects the feisty, unbland Newburyport that I loved so much.

I may have agreed or disagreed with a lot of the folks, but colorful they were.

Yes, folks like Byron Matthews and Erford Fowler are still very much about, but it feels as if their color is muted.

Whether you liked Tom Ryan or not, he was mucho colorful.

And the “old boys” clashing with the “newbies” created spark and a colorful tension.

And it feels as if so much of that “tension” in Newburyport is gone, like the gutted insides of so many historic homes. Obviously, many, many folks are glad of the “calm,” but for this artist and blogger, that lack of color feels like a tremendous loss.

Mary Eaton
Newburyport

Online Writing, Maybe Not So Carefree

One of the things that I am struck by when I read Tom Salemi’s Blog, Newburyport Posts and even a very new blog, South End Blend, is that because these folks have taken the time to show up and voice an opinion or viewpoint, the blogs, for me, take on a certain authority. And I imagine that neither Tom of Newburyport Posts, or Rob and Mary of South End Blend had this in mind.

And I find this paralyzing. Because, if these folks online viewpoint carries, at least for me, some authority, that means that maybe the Newburyport Blog could too.

And it may not be enough just to write something and send it out blithely out into cyberspace, out into the universe, as I have always imagined. Maybe some of my critics could be correct. There maybe nothing casual about an online word or image. Writing, something, anything online, could carry with it some responsibility.

Good grief. Even casual comments about crabgrass seem to elicit a response.

I think I have gradually come to this realization and find it really depressing. Before it used to feel like being in a leaf pile and throwing leaves up into the sky. A joyous and carefree endeavor. It doesn’t feel so carefree anymore.

Mary Eaton
Newburyport

Central Church, Newburyport

I came across this wonderful picture of Brown Square and Central Church on the online Newburyport Archives.

Central Church
Courtesy of the Newburyport Archival Center
The Newburyport Public Library

What is now the Garrison Inn, can be seen on the left next to the church. It looks as if there could be a glimpse of City Hall to the right (I’m not sure). And then there is the beautiful archway of trees with what is now Central Congregational Church at the end. In the Newburyport Archives it is listed as “Central Church (North).”

I thought that this image, along with all the rest of the remarkable historic photographs and prints that are now available to the public, in the public domain, through the Library of Congress and the Newburyport Archival Center, that have recently been up on the Newburyport Blog, would be a good way to wish the readers of the Newburyport Blog (who I am most grateful to), a very Happy Holiday.

Newburyport, Fruit Street

I am not a big snow lover. Ok, today’s snow was fluffy, but there was still a whole lot of it (at least on my street) again. Oy veh.

I found this warmer (it must either be early spring or late fall), snowless photograph of Fruit Street looking towards the water on the online Newburyport Archives.

Fruit Street Looking Towards the Water
Courtesy of the Newburyport Archival Center
The Newburyport Public Library

And in the detail it looks like there is an early automobile. And there is also still, at least one hitching post for horses right above it.

Detail, Fruit Street Looking Towards the Water
Courtesy of the Newburyport Archival Center
The Newburyport Public Library

Mary Eaton
Newburyport

New England Driveway Snowdrifts

Because of where my dwelling is located and how it is built, I find I am prone to snowdrifts, as in snowdrifts blocking my front door (and my heating vent, see earlier entry).

Snowdrifts, Wikipedia.org
GNU Free Documentation License

No, not quite that bad.

An habitual planner and often obsessive “can I solve this,” attempting problem solver, I set my mind this summer, to the dilemma of New England snowdrifts, particularly, my snowdrifts.

I Google “snow drifts,” and learn all about snow and wind patterns. Who knew. Actually, all interesting stuff.

I decide that, “ah ha,” it would be good to have something at an angle to my dwelling, to direct all those northeasterly winds away from my residence.

I then massively research stationary and possible portable snow-fences.

But then I have this idea. My neighbors park in my driveway. What if we put our cars at an angle and use the automobiles as snowdrift, wind directories, channeling the wind, snow and sleet away from my abode.

My neighbors and fellow driveway dwellers, are obliging.

Sunday, after many, many inches of snow and lots of northeasterly wind, another possible “eureka.” No wild drifts up against my doorway.

My first nor’easter, testing trial. But as in any good “scientific” experiment, this would only be a first good indicator. Fingers crossed and automobiles angled.

Mary Eaton
Newburyport

New England Snow and Rain, Nor’easter

What an odd day today, Sunday, December 16, 2007 in Newburyport, MA.

The weather folks seem to be so happy when there is the potential of a major storm. Top of the hour or half hour, instead of the last of the show. Sometimes almost the entire hour.

Snow On Trees, wikipedia.org
Creative Commons Attribution

Me, I bless the computer. I check weather.com or weatherperhour.com, sometimes, even more reliable, to find out the vagaries of snow, wind, sleet and rain.

It looked like another good foot of snow on our small New England Street. And before the sleet and rain started, the neighborhood came out to shovel and snow-blow. My neighbor’s snow blower is named “Betsy.” The snow blower, in all honesty looks like a “Betsy.” Well named and much appreciated.

We all manage to get most of the snow moved off driveways and cars before the sleet and rain started. And my neighbor is right, it ends up raining hard.

I feel virtuous having checked the weather on my trusted computer. And now I’m out in the rain trying to make room in the slushy street, so that the water from the driveway can find its way beyond my dwelling to some hopeful municipal water depository.

I feel like a small girl again, playing in the trickles of waterways, in upstate New York, as my father takes his beloved fly rod and heads up stream to find a willing brown trout.

I have one of these heater vents that looks like a nipple, that sticks out from the side of the house.

And when it snows, yes, my heating vent, like so many side heating vents all over New England, gets covered with snow.

After fretting about what to do for it, it seems like forever, I might actually have come up with a solution. A sheet of metal, corrugated roof, cut to six feet, lined with duck tape to make the edges less sharp, is propped up against the side of the house at an angle, and weighted down with a four bricks, so as not to blow away.

I actually sleep through the night, not worried about the nipple vent being covered with snow. And go out in the morning, with great pride, to inspect my so far, un-snowed in heating vent. A possible “eureka.”

My neighbor seems as impressed and pleased as I am at this possible “solution,” knowing my frustrations over the years. A suggestion is made to “patent” the idea. But I’m not sure that corrugated, roofing sheet metal, sold almost everywhere, could be patented. Alas.

And I go out in the rain with my roof-rake, bought in some previous New England winter. I discovered that removing a mere 1-2 feet of snow towards the edge of the roof, somehow allows possible appropriate melting, and few icicles or possible ice backup. So I’m happy to go out in the rain and send soaking snow, plopping down from the roof.

And the rain is letting up, and maybe the street and sidewalks will drain a little before the weather gets cold again, setting mushy watery stuff, into solid ice.

Mary Eaton
Newburyport

Swarms of Starling Visitors

Early Sunday morning hundreds of Starlings descended on my lawn/green stuff and madly started pecking.

Who knew that my lawn/green stuff could provide a gourmet meal for Starlings.

They would peck madly, fly off in a swarm, and then come back and peck madly again. The lawn would suddenly turn speckled, dark grey. But, I guess they’ve moved on, because I haven’t seen them since.

When I lived on the island (Plum Island) Starlings would descend this time of year onto trees that had berries on them. Well, that made sense, but my frozen solid lawn? Gourmet, yummy stuff? Got me.

I just assumed they were Starlings. But I thought since I was going to talk about them on the Newburyport Blog, that maybe I better make sure, well as sure as possible, that the fact that they could be Starlings, and not some other bird.

And it wasn’t very hard to find flock of Starling stuff on the World Wide Web. And sure enough, my trusted friend Wikipedia had info on Starlings.

Starlings, just like the one’s on my lawn.
Daniel Plazanet (Daplaza)
Creative Commons Attribution ShareAlike

And I found out a very cool thing about Starlings.

“All the European Starlings in North America descended from 100 birds released in New York’s Central Park in the early 1890s. A group dedicated to introducing America to all the birds mentioned in Shakespeare’s works set the birds free. Today, European Starlings range from Alaska to Florida and northern Mexico, and their population is estimated at over 200 million birds.”
(www.birds.cornell.edu)

That’s a heck of a lot of birds. And just a bunch came and visited me briefly, pecking madly.

Mary Eaton
Nwburyport