Reception at the Ambassador's Residence

Last evening we attended a reception at the residence of the French Ambassador to the United States.

I wore this:



It is a beautiful and quite large mansion with extensive grounds. I'm familiar with it from strolls through the neighbourhood, but have never been inside as far as I recall. My grandparents regularly attended receptions there.

His Excellency greeted us as soon as we entered and made us feel welcome.

Served with glasses of champagne, we wandered the rooms, greeting acquaintances and admiring the decor.



I especially liked this cheery, modern toile pattern on the sitting room curtains.



A portrait in the dining room.



An array of patisserie.



It was a beautiful evening and very pleasant on the terrace. The sunset in the distance added to the ambiance. Here's a view of the ambassadorial swimming pool.



Members of the French aristocracy were indeed present, a comte and a marquis. Possibly others. I've got a list of the attendees but have been too busy to study it closely.

After the reception, we enjoyed a late dinner with an old school chum of mine and his wife. My friend and I hadn't seen one another in a very long time, not since we were teenagers. We agreed we both look exactly the same. Only better!

Here's a glance at the back of the house in which I'm staying, shot from my bedroom window this morning.



This afternoon there's a river cruise. The weather couldn't be more perfect for it.

Undisclosed Location

I'm presently blogging from an undisclosed location in a city I recently mentioned I'd be visiting.

Had a lovely flight out of Manchester this morning, caught a commuter rail line into the city.

Here's the train station as the taxicab pulled away.



I'm staying in a house, and believe me it's no ordinary house. I've stayed here several times, but never in the rooms I'm presently occupying.

Here's the upstairs corridor on which this suite can be found.



Entering, there's a nice foyer.



The bedroom.



The sitting area and fireplace.



My dressing room--only a portion, it's vast. Huge closets and drawers and cubbyholes and all sorts of compartments for hats, gloves, furs. The former lady of this mansion was extremely fashionable. (You'll meet her in a moment...)



The view from one of my windows--an oriental garden, presided over by a large Buddha statue.



Down the staircase one level is the Tapestry Hall.



Here's one of the dining rooms. Portraits of the builders/original residents are at the far end of the room.



The lady of the house. One day, I hope to write her story...am amazing biography!



One of the many wall tapestries in the dining room.



I took other photographs of favourite spots in this house, so there's more to come. For now, must retire to my dressing room and use it as it was intended to be used.

And to think that just over 24 hours ago I was strolling along a hilly dirt road wearing country garb, my hair uncombed, watching my dogs nosing out the scent of wild and mysterious critters.

And in less than 2 hours, I'll be wearing a name badge bearing my title (The Honorable, in case you've forgotten), hanging out with assorted dignitaries. And a few actual aristocrats.

Cheap Pumpkins and Free Tomatoes

I had an errand this morning that took me on one of my favourite drives, up to the ridge. It's an area of hills, forests, and farmland, with some maple sugar houses and large nursery garden operations--with row upon row of field-grown mums. The fauna included the Highland cattle up the road from us, the Jersey calves, Julie's sheep, and a bunch of Holsteins standing about chewing hay. Didn't see turkeys, as I often do along that route. The trees are definitely on the turn, some very fine colour already, especially vivid mixed in with all the green that remains.

I passed a farmhouse with an informal front-yard vegetable stand and noticed bins of ripe tomatoes. Decided I'd stop on my way back and choose a few...I had a small amount of cash on me to go in the honor box.

But when I stopped and got out of the car, I found dozens upon dozens of round, gleaming red tomatoes, plus a big magic marker sign in one bin: FREE. So I gathered up some smallish ones (pictured above), a few more than I would've done had I been paying.

At another farm, the sort of cute perfectly-shaped pumpkins I like best were piled up on a tree stump--the sign said they were 50 cents. I didn't stop there today but will next week when I pass it again.

At the sheep farm, an Igloo cooler was sitting on a card table. "Fresh Eggs!" I didn't need any. Maybe next week....

My passion flower is flowering on the screened porch...perhaps the last blossom I shall get from it.

Activities

Here I am with the Governor last Thursday. Is my choice of skirt too frivolous?



On the opposite wall, staring down at us, was a big giant moose head. The photo was taken at Bridges House, the official "residence" of the Governor (once the home of Gov. Stiles Bridges). Nowadays it isn't occupied, it's a site for hospitality and functions. In other words, a party house!

The Chap and I headed up to the cottage on Saturday. My sisters-in-law, the girls from Minneapolis, were there, too. I wore my authorly t-shirt...as a warming to family members!



(Having laundered it yesterday, I'm sporting it again today. A warning to the workmen who are demolishing and re-constructing our master bath. If I wrote a novel about this ongoing project it would definitely be an epic, with many twists and turns.)

At this time of year there's very little boat traffic but we saw lots of air traffic in the Bay. Three helicopters zoomed low over the water, it looked as if they were in pursuit of a boat.

We also spotted this hang-glider, gliding over our neighbour's antique wooden Cris Craft, on its regular late afternoon cruise.



A floatplane, and another boat.



Somebody (not me) had a craving for cake and had purchased Duncan Hines cake mix, a product with which we were all unfamiliar. Even so, the sheet cake turned out pretty well.



I assumed that after all the chilly weather last week, the lake would be much too cold for swimming. Because it was 72 degrees, I decided to go in. The water felt fantastic! It wasn't long before the girls joined me.

I'd love to use this as a campaign photo...



...although I suppose this one is rather more dignified.

Sunday Stroll

The second half of the week was madness, and I'm glad I found some quiet time to observe interesting things happening at the Lodge.

Beans on the scarlet runner bean plant.



On the handrail I met this interesting caterpillar. Couldn't find him in any of my books.



Sedum at peak bloom.



Wild aster. It seems to have a purple stem, but I don't think it's the purple-stemmed one because the flowers look exactly like the other one. I looked it up in my book but my book isn't beside me at the moment.



I love rugosa hips.



The goldenrod...with some sort of little bee or wasp at work.



My poor confused forsythia thinks it's springtime and autumn. The leaves are changing, but the giant shrub is covered with opening buds and yellow blossoms.



This chipmunk is called Vincent (van Gogh). Half his right ear is missing.



It might take me a little while to catch up with the activities of recent days--photo op with the Governor, afternoon at the lake cottage (with late season swimming), et cetera.

The Dividing Line

I'm never inclined to blog on this day, the second worst day of my life and one extremely significant in my life journey. In three years of blogging, I've managed to do it once. You can read a summary my personal 9/11 story here. Just the basics. I left out a lot.

As often happens, this morning is a painfully perfect replica of September 11, 2001. Which only serves to bring back difficult emotions with too much clarity for comfort.

The Chap and I headed down to Washington, DC shortly before 9/11, on an early morning flight out of Manchester. It was a lovely dawn, quite magical, and my eyes were glued to the window. Our route took us right over Manhattan, along its western edge. We were at a fairly low altitude. The rising sun struck the World Trade towers as we passed by. For once, and for the first time, I actually thought them beautiful--breathtakingly so.

In a matter of days, they were dust. So many lives crumbled with them. And in a way, something of my own way of living also vanished.

For many reasons--mostly connected to that event--I've not been back to Washington since that trip. So much has happened, my life and the Chap's have undergone profound changes, more than I can itemise. There have been losses--both of my grandparents, who lived so long in Washington, are gone. The dogs who comforted me on 9/11/01 have left me.

My relationship with Washington began before I was ever born. For me it's a special place for reasons that have nothing to do with government or politics. It's always a homecoming for me, to a place where I meet many of my earliest memories. And later ones.

Soon I shall be there again. I can't really cross backwards over the dividing line of 9/11. While there I'll encounter so much of my past, and I'll make some fresh memories. It will be an interesting experience. And, given the nature of our activities, enjoyable.

But oh--what challenges are posed by our wardrobe requirements, and the packing! I rely on that for my needed distraction from the complicated emotions conjured by this date on the calendar.

Cardinal Family Values

While eating my breakfast, I had the pleasure of watching our female cardinal feeding her large and ungainly child on the railing of the large deck. She was poking meats from safflower seeds into its eager mouth.

By the time I'd fetched my camera, both birds had moved to the feeder. Mother bird was eating her own breakfast. Clearly she intended to instill self-sufficiency into her big baby, who was perched rather helplessly on top of the feeder wondering what it was supposed to be doing.



True to my usual hasty, messy fashion of feeder-filling, I'd left some spilled seed on the top of the feeder...little guessing how important it would become.

Baby feeds itself for the very first time.



Confident of its survival skills, it proudly raises its crest.



It might be funny-looking now, but I'm quite sure it will grow up to be as beautiful as its parents.

While we've got cardinals aplenty in our area we've only the one pair on our property. They settled here two and a half years ago. We're thrilled that they produced two broods this summer.

In the Pink and Gilbert's Return

Gilbert the Chipmunk is back! He remembered that it's our anniversary!

More about him in a minute.

After a pair of lovely, crisp blue days we're in for stormy weather later. At the Board of Selectmen's meeting last night I heard descriptions of the road damage and flooding on Saturday night. The prospect of more rain is not pleasant.

I decided to capture the garden blooms before they get battered again.

This turtlehead is a mainstay of the garden in September, and self-sows very nicely.



Looking down on sedums.



Mary Rose, one of my David Austin English Roses.



Autumn Damask (The Four Seasons Rose). If I recall correctly, this is a parent or grandparent of Mary Rose, used by Austin in creating her.



My relationship with my chipmunks, formerly so intimate that they fed from my hand, has suffered this summer. I've spent more time at the Big Lake than the Lodge, and when here I'm too busy to hang out with them as much as I have in past years.

But one visitor this morning caught my attention. You'll have to trust me on this, but I'm pretty sure it's Gilbert, the little fellow whose life and limb I saved two years ago.

To backtrack to September 10, 2006 (exactly 2 years tomorrow!), this is how we met. As a baby he got trapped in the mesh of my deer barrier fence. He had many abrasions and one of his legs was severely damaged--as you plainly see.



This is how he got his name, Gilbert Grape.



This is our parting scene, after I nursed him back to perfect health.



This was our reunion this morning.



How do I know it's Gilbert? He has a unique, memorable, and identifiable profile. His nose is extra pointy and poky, and he has a terrible overbite, with a short lower jaw. I've spotted him a time or two since he left my care two years ago.



He very kindly posed for me on the rail of the deck. I took lots of nice shots, but felt this one is worthy of the cover of Chipmunk Monthly.



Or perhaps the debut issue of Chipmunk Monthly, because I don't think it exists yet. If it did, I'd probably be a subscriber!

It's Primary Election Day. I 'll soon be heading out to vote for myself. And a bunch of other people, too. But first, I need to feed Gilbert a few green grapes! I assume he still likes them, though they aren't readily available in the forest where he forages.

Rolling and Strolling in the City

As my Sunday Stroll I'm posting activities of Friday and Saturday, as well as first thing this morning.

On Friday I headed towards the Seacoast to meet a friend for lunch. It was a beautiful, warm day--a real August sort of day, not at all like September. I had my car windows and top open so I knew I was near the edge of the continent by the first aromas of salty air.

A window shot of Great Bay taken on the bridge crossing.



We had a yum lunch at Friendly Toast then went our separate ways. Strolling up Market Street, I shot the renovated steeple of the Congregational Church.



I headed to a discount store in Newington to look for a second pair of Oscar de la Renta sunglasses I'd bought at the Concord store. I love love love them and wanted to stock up, only Concord didn't have additional stock. I found a single pair. While strolling through the shoes, I came upon a Jack Russell terrier trying out dog beds. I asked if I could photograph him.

The two choices.



I'll take this one!



His companion human and I had a lengthy and fascinating chat, found all sorts of common interests and experiences, plus her husband is a candidate for State Rep. While we were talking, Hogie fell asleep on the quilted dog bed...he made the right decision!

I headed back over the bridge for home.



Nearing the Lodge, I confront the devastation from the tornado on both sides of Route 4. I cannot adequately express the feeling of seeing the levelled houses and trees on each side of the highway, and in that exact spot I look to the north and see the very mountain that begins--or ends, depending on your perspective--in my own backyard. The proximity of the tornado and the randomness of the touchdown points hit me all over again.

Late yesterday the Chap and I drove to the airport to collect my sisters-in-law, who are spending 10 days in NH. Hurricane Hanna was already looming over the city, portending future disaster.



While we waited for the plane to land (it got in early, but so did we), we strolled round studying the installations. Lots of sculptures from the Institute of Art, and a series of moose.

A blue moose.



A birch bark moose.



A moose with leopard spots.



We went straight to our favourite Mexican joint, La Carreta. It was pouring rain, the Chap dropped us at the curb before parking. Inside, we found some friends of ours dining in an adjacent booth.

After their flight, our girls wanted something wet and cold.



We had a lovely dinner. Then we dodge the downpour and headed for a store to look at a rug...only by that time Hurrican Hanna had flooded the parking lot and we couldn't get to the doors, which had flood barricades up.

Continued on through the deluge to the Lodge. Ruth and Jewel were thrilled to see their aunts, who headed off into the rainy night with one of our vehicles on temporary loan.

The rain poured overnight with such ferocity that I was truly alarmed about rivers and streams. Water was dripping down the inside of our chimney, so we had to put a tub inside the opening of our bedroom fireplace to catch the drips. We heard a tree crash down somewhere in the woods beside the garage.

First thing this morning, I strolled onto the big deck to retrieve the newspaper. The big gardening tub was the fullest it has ever been. The worst of storms leaves about 4 to 6 inches depth. It was several times that amount.



The brook at the edge of our property had jumped the road, and was pouring into the little lake.



We learned from television news that the road to the village where our church is was closed due to a washout. We decided to go anyway, the long way.

But our own road--which was rebuilt and re-graded only last week--was severely washed, completely carved up by the intensity of the rain. In places it was down to one lane, with great chasms on the side and fissures running across the road bed. We just managed to make it to the hardtop road.

The river passing through our town and along the valley has overflowed its banks and is at flood stage. We passed a campground near the river, which had been evacuated, but I could see trailers that had been badly flooded. The dam in the village was terrifying to behold.

After church and Adult Forum, we came home the usual way--the closed portion of the road to our house was open again.

Some of my constituents downriver received word on Friday of a Federal buyout of their homes from the floods of 2 years ago. Others received a refusal. I suspect that the situation down there is dire, but I pray not. We had two 100-year floods in the past three years, and based on what I saw this morning, we might be having a third.

Ironies of ironies, tomorrow I will attend a Board of Selectman's meeting with reps from the Feds and state agendies, about the recommended restoration of the river (now at flood state again), which altered its course in the Mother's Day flood of '06. The geomorphological term for what happened is "avulsion," and but it's easier and just as description to say that our river is "broken."

And a week ago, I was so concerned about the Savannah relatives, little guessing that Hard-hearted Hanna would be visiting my community instead.

For better, drier (I trust) strolls, head here.