Tonight was a bit weird. I know, I haven’t been up to much to post on this blog. Truth be told I’m broke and busy with other things in life (but not unhappy!) Even so I still needed to get out… so I was more than happy to be a seat filler at the local theater when someone else couldn’t attend a show. What show was I seeing? I had no idea and didn’t bother looking it up. I felt it was more fun this way… ended up at the theater an hour early only to find we had an extra ticket after we got there. So I called the only person I knew in Keene… who turned me down… before looking on the streets to see if there was any soul out there looking like they needed a Pay It Forward moment. Alas, everyone was in couples or groups, no single stragglers about. A missed opportunity.
As it turns out I had shown up to see Scott Bradlee’s Postmodern Jukebox. If you’ve never heard of them don’t feel bad, I was just as lost. I flipped through the theater’s brochure awing at the dinosaur puppets that are apparently coming to town and daydreaming about another gig coming up – Arlo Guthrie. SIGH.
For the past few days I have been blaring obscenely happy music. Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, the Squirrel Nut Zippers, and random selections of old favorites like Ducks on the Wall by the Kinks. You know – obnoxiously off-the-wall deliriously joyful or just blatantly bizarre songs. Maybe I was doing this in an unconscious effort to prepare myself for tonight.
Scott Bradlee’s Postmodern Jukebox is apparently a swing (?) band that has a number of singers performing modern songs to the backdrop of… the 1920’s! Yep, can’t say I was expecting that… but you know how I have a soft spot in my heart for anything so totally random.
The thing is I haven’t paid any attention to modern music since about five years before my birth. I will always be a die hard Summer of Love hippie when it comes right down to it. Being such I never listened to modern music as it was coming off the radio, at least not intentionally. Only in the past year have I gotten around to listening to and enjoying a few random tidbits from the 90’s. Suffice to say because of this quirk I didn’t recognize almost any of their renditions. I could figure out the first – Call Me Maybe and the last, All About the Bass only because I hear them at the grocery store when I am shopping. One of the middle songs was Creep, probably the only song I actually knew… and it was sung by a brassy bluesy woman who belted it out in a most unusual fashion. Did it still creep me out? A little less. I must admit.
The ensemble was wildly enthusiastic, accompanied by an assortment of unlikely instruments, (though not enough brass, if I am to offer the smallest of critiques.) The singers were quite good at hitting those sultry depression-era chords and there was even an ecstatic tap dancer doing the Charleston through much of it. This left the entire theater in a positively vibrant glow of joyful energy… and I think I saw Dick Tracy!! He was dressed in a full on zoot suit, feathered hat to match, shuffling about with a cane in the front row. I think he was about 180 years old but absolutely darling. How long was that stunning outfit in his closet?! Was he waiting for this music to come back around?! BLESS. Just fucking bless! I love people like that. Seeing them just be themselves gives me faith in humanity… and since we’re talking about some guy who was clearly pimped out to the max I feel it’s appropriate to mention what I learned tonight from my dictionary. Jukebox originated from a bastardization of Juke House – apparently what a certain French tainted dialect of the deep south called a brothel at the time. And now you know!
Anyway, had a great time. The theater is also currently playing Loving Vincent so don’t miss it if you haven’t already gone! Peace, love, and music, everyone! I’m leaving a video here, though is not the singer who serenaded us tonight, I figured it didn’t matter that much. Enjoy it anyway!
If you are enjoying Catching Marbles please consider adding a dollar or two to my limited gas money fund so I may continue going on adventures and sharing them with you! Thank you!
Acadia is one of my favorite places to go. The park is enormous and has something to offer everyone. It has hiking trails of all levels and capabilities for the athletic among us but it also has a variety of stunning views you can either see directly out your car window or very easily access. If that’s not enough to tempt you there’s also a number of beaches both rocky and sandy and a few other attractions that lure the curious.
I have been to Acadia two or three times already, always off season, and I didn’t pay anything to get in because of this, but I guess I was either too early this year or they changed their policy. Some of the park remained free – like the drive up Cadillac Mountain, but by the time I got close to Thunderhole I approached a toll gate and had to fork over $25 for a week’s pass. That’s OK though, it was worth it.
This visit was a short one as I was busy socializing for most fo the day and only arrived at 2PM but I still packed a lot into a few hours! I especially wanted to drive to the summit of Cadillac Mountain to get a few nice foliage photos and enjoy the fresh mountain air. I was shocked how many people were here! But I guess when the weather is a freakish 70-some-odd degrees people are more likely to come out and enjoy nature at its finest. I stopped at several points to take a few snaps and enjoyed the summit as well as the Overlook at Blue Hill the most as far as the mountain went. I ended up shuffling out onto the bare rocks at the summit and enjoyed a bit of time just soaking in the view – which included all the colorful trees I could wish for, a delightful pond, a few islands off the coast, and unseasonably blue skies. It was hard not to stay here forever. Unlike many parks Acadia is open 24/7 all year long…. Obviously this means I must return once more… at night. The view must be amazing then! I wonder if you can hear loons or if wolves exist in the park…
Anyway, that flight of fancy erased from my mind I continued onwards, driving back down the mountain. On my way I had to stop the car to let a deer pass and took a shot out my car window of a second that was staring at me from a few feet away. I got one good snap before another car barreled by in the travel lane scaring them both off.
I wanted to see Thunderhole – which is this rock formation at the coast that makes a thunderous noise when the waves from the ocean rush through it. I have been told about it for years from all sorts of relatives ad friends and had yet to check it out… but first I passed Sand Beach, the main sandy beach in the park, and had to get out to amble for a bit. It was low tide. I had never been here during low tide. I must say all the exposed rocks gave it extra character! There wasn’t too many people there at this time of day, or year, certainly no polar bear swimming club to be seen, but there were a few families playing with nerf balls and kites. I’m surprised there weren’t any dogs – as they are allowed in the park.
Truth be told these people were probably all here to take advantage of the sunset which was closing in soon. It was a good vantage point for that – though not the best conditions today. It was a bit gray out.
Well! I must admit October has been rough for me, and it always is, if I’m to be honest. As much as I wanted to do a TON of traveling this month my body keeps slamming me. My last little jaunt into the woods, which wasn’t far at all, laid me up for two days afterwards, and although I feel great today I knew I shouldn’t be pushing it. That’s why instead of hiking up Pack Monadnock like I’d prefer I instead decided to be a total sissy and drive the auto road, taking my foliage photos mostly from the parking lot. That being said I had a blast!
Right off the bat I had the guy at the toll gate laughing at me as I handed over my four dollars (I summarized my desire to just drive up to the summit for a few snaps, but I guess in a humorous way. I often have no idea I’m being funny but that’s the joy of life, isn’t it?) From there the drive up the mountain was one long groan coming from the Prius. If that car could talk it’d be screaming, “WHHHHY?! JUST WHHHHHY WOULD YOU DRIVE ME UP A MOUNTAIN?!” Because Daisy is still laid up. That’s why. When I finally reached the parking lot the place was packed! I found one space at the very end and like a pro parked the worst I have ever parked in my life. You know the kind of parking an old lady would do while plowing through someone’s front porch… This happens every time I know I am being watched by strangers. I couldn’t save face so I just hopped out and owned it. “WOW, why do I suck so bad at this?! Let me try again!” I was guided in by a nice hippie gentleman who I conversed with for a few minutes. I gave him the impression I was young and new at driving, though not intentionally. My way of not dying of embarrassment I suppose.
I was a bit sad to find visibility today was really poor even though the foliage wasn’t half bad. Figuring that out I decided to check out some trails. The trails were scattered and strange. Immediately, while I was still a bit skittish from parking, a group of college kids asked me if I could take their photo. I obliged and they complimented me on my T-shirts and hair. I smiled and said thank you and had I not been totally overstimulated in that moment maybe I would have held a slightly longer conversation with them but alas! My mind was drawing blanks, a lot of them. It does that.
From here I made my way to the little observation spot that was set up for birds of prey. There was a big grease board denoting which birds had been seen today. I had no idea we had so many damn varieties of hawks. No wonder those little SOBs were so problematic when I had chickens! There were three sightings of eagles today. I had seen my last one a couple weeks ago while driving around Mason somewhere so I knew they were still in the area. People seemed kind of grumpy and bored here so I wandered off to where the vibes were better. I went down a few trails here and there, following some red dots, and got a few more little views. It was a nice mountain and the foliage was great but the visibility today was piss-poor. Too much humidity clouding up around the trees! Ah well, I did try.
It all starts with Colonel Buck, one of the town’s founding leaders. I was told the story went something like this: A long time ago there was a mayor named Colonel Buck who had an illicit affair with a woman about the town and when she threatened to spill the beans about it he had her burned as a witch. As she was engulfed in flames her foot fell out of the fire, flopped onto the grave stone of her accuser, and made a permanent mark after she cried out some curse involving said foot. It’s a marvelous story. Gruesome, morbid, full of intrigue… and a complete lie. This had to have been made up by some bored parent one day teasing their children walking by the cemetery. Still, it attracts visitors from all over who come to gaze at Colonel Buck’s Tomb, which isn’t a tomb so much as a pillar shaped gravestone that was erected six decades after he died. He also wasn’t the mayor, he was a justice of the peace, and if he had any illicit love affairs they’re not on record and neither is there any record of any executions of witches in Maine. In fact the only witches put to death in all of New England were hung or pressed to death with stones, not burned alive. There’s a sign saying all this, basically a big ol’ bulletin that might as well read, “Y’all full of shit.” but hey if it’s real blood guts and gore you’re after there’s a much lesser known stone with a much truer story a few streets away.
This is the stone of Sarah Ware. Her story is as weird as it gets up here in Maine. She was unusual in life because she was a divorced woman in the 1800’s, something pretty much unheard of. This had to have given her one hell of a stigma and maybe it was exactly that that got her killed. Life as a divorcee was not easy then and at fifty two years of age she was supporting herself by being a Jill of all trades babysitting, cleaning, and doing the odd job here and there. She was on her way home one evening when she disappeared. She was found two weeks later in a field viciously bludgeoned to death. She had been beaten so badly that when the body was removed her head fell clean off and her jaw was nowhere to be found. It was then kept as evidence as the rest of her was buried somewhere. Her head was kept in criminal storage as evidence for nearly a century before clerks discovered this gruesome artifact in 1983. The head was given a stone and laid to rest in the Oak Hill Cemetery, sans body.
There is an observatory at the top of the bridge overlooking 
Everyone exchanged pleasantries and talked about vertigo and trees. Then they turned to me and addressed the elephant in the room – my flaming orange hair. I was suddenly flooded with compliments and told I was “brave.” I laughed and smiled. I think I will keep my hair this color. I got probably ten comments on it from strangers that day. I think it’s a delightful ice breaker. Finally the elevator dinged and we all got out, climbed a few stairs, and voila! We’re in a fish tank at the top of the world! Or so it felt.
Today I had to go to Marlborough and decided to let the GPS drag me down some back roads. I am so happy I chose to do this instead of going the way I knew! I ended up on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere (which is always a nice thing for me) and when I passed a cemetery that looked like it was full of old slate stones I couldn’t resist. Oh! This cemetery had the most character of any slate graveyard I have been in! Whoever was carving those old stones must have had quite the personality! I got to see all the usual designs – cherubs, urns, weeping willows, but with so much added extra flair it was unbelievable. Odd swoops and swirls, intricate geometric designs, and even one which had a 3-D face. Totally bizarre! But how wonderful!
I had meant to go to two covered bridges today but being as I got out of the house rather late and kept finding happy detours it was getting dark… still, I had time for one more little excursion. I hadn’t visited Ashuelot before and I was delighted to find it’s this adorable little historic town with one of the most charming covered bridges I have ever come across. I parked aside the road and marveled at the fact it had not one but TWO pedestrian pathways over the bridge. The river below gurgled and churned and blocked out all noise from the traffic surrounding it. There was something so unbelievably peaceful and fun about this particular bridge even though it seemed to be situated near a lot of activity. A sign on the front even advertised “Dinner on the Covered Bridge!” some sort of quaint annual event.
