Lizzie Borden Inn Ghost Hunt – Fall River Massachussetts

If you grew up in New England you deffinately skipped rope to the sound of gleefully morbid children singing, “Lizzie Borden had an ax, gave her mother 40 whacks, when she saw what she had done she gave her father 41.” Before counting to the sound of the rope slapping the ground. The Lizzie Borden story is forever written in infamy – a grusome crime that was never officially solved. Was Lizzie, who was found by a neighbor burning a bloody dress guilty of such of crime? Or was the maid who claimed to be asleep in the house, or Lizzie’s sister Emma, or the mystery guest or uncle who showed up to town just two days before? Character reports of the murder victims painted them increasingly cruel over the years so whose to say who had an ax to grind with them? The people at the time did put Lizzie on trial (while heavily sedated by doctors to calm her nerves) and they found her innocent because ax murdering is just not something a proper lady of the time was capable of! Lizzie moved on, bought a different house across town, became a patron of the arts, took on the occasional mistress, and died a spinster, forever shunned by the people about town. And the house.. it remained more or less the same until someone decided to make it into an inn. Of course times are tough so it’s had to get creative to pay the bills. In addition to being an inn it also converted the barn to a gift shop and now hosts regular ghost tours and hunts. It sounded like a fun place to poke around.

We arrived early in hopes of finding parking and lucked out. There is a very small and hard to find parking lot but it only is comfortably big enough for four cars or so.

The tour started at registration in the little gift shop which was filled with all sorts of brutal memorabilia, the usual magnets and postcards scattered among black cat plushies and bloody ax pillows, and a whole corner devoted to ghost hunting devices – everything you could ever want in that department from simple EMF meters, to REM pods, to spirit boxes and more. Under glass at the counter there was a fun display of pottery fragments and metal things from the era that had been dug up on the property. Tonight the group was large consisting of I believe 19 people and the tour guide of course. Most of these people seemed to be young goths and couples looking for an interesting date night. I would expect no less. There was also one other family there with a small child who seemed quiet and content. We had come ourselves at the request of a very excited teenager and here we were!

After checking in we were led to a small kitchen and we all gathered around to be told the cliff notes version of the tale but this time it included the neighbors, relatives of the Bordens, who also witnessed murder in their household when the mother dropped her three babes in the well before slitting her own throat with a razorblade. Two of the children drown in the well while a third scrabbled her way out and survived the ordeal. Was it another attempt at a whole family murder at the hands of the husband or was this really the murder/suicide of a woman stricken with post partum psychosis in the days before medical science even had an inkling of such a thing? I guess no living person will know but we were told the children often skip on over here to talk with guests. And finally we were told of Max the cat who died at 21 just a week after his owners sold this house and moved. His paw prints and ghostly visage still showing up from time to time.

From here we were all given EMF meters to use and allowed to choose from a whole host of other ghost hunting goodies – spirit boxes, yes or no lights, dowsing rods, a thermal scanner, REM pods galore, one of those devices that puts green dots all over the place, headphones, cat toys that lit up when touched. We were given a brief instruction on all of them before being split up into two groups, one which got to go into the creepy basement first and one which got to play around the first floor where Andrew Borden met his fate. The top two floors were of course reserved for inn guests . And then we were basically off to free range and do as we pleased, as long as that wasn’t playing with a ouijia board!

Of course by now we had one super excited teenager and one who found the experience a little too scary at first – not appreciating the ghosts answering during device demonstrations nor the bloody manniken corpse on the couch at the site of the murder. But we encouraged her to get involved and ask questions of the yes/no light which would light up green for yes, red for no, and with quite a bit of coaxing she really warmed up to the yes/no box, so much so that in a few minutes it was just herself and I asking it questions and it was going off steadily, although at times it’d light up both red and green which was a bit confusing. That being said the lights were oddly comforting in their responses and she was able to see the ghosts here appeared to be of the friendly variety. Meanwhile my companion and the other teenager were in the dining room playing with dowsing rods and having just as much success. Hilariously both the dowsing rods and yes/no box appeared to prefer just the two people they were talking to keeping us separated into pairs for the time being though I did pop my head for a moment to see the dining room whose table had actual crime scene photos that despite being in black and white were no less horrific. There was just no recognizable face left on either corpse. That… that’s some potent familial rage there.

Other guests were in the other rooms playing joyfully with their chosen devices and apparently doing as well with them as us. I was pleasantly surprised. I sort of expected this to be a pretty boring tour-kind of exercise where we might hear one or two words on the spirit box so we could all oo and awe and come home but the amount of activity going on here was wild. I would have been happy with just that but on hour two we were instructed to switch with the other team and so we entered the creepy basement where we were shown a face in the bricks above a wash basin, a thermal photo of Max the cat’s ghost, pawprints in the paint also ascribed to Max, the luminol-sprayed and glowing blood stains that dripped from the floor above, and a room that was once used for seances and ouijia board readings.

At this point our whole group started in the room with the wash basin but it’d only be a moment or two before all three of them left me behind to poke at something else. So I found myself in a room with the yes/no box, a REM pod, a cat ball, an EMF Guage, and a set of dowsing rods at which point the yes/no box started going mental and blinking both lights without request, the REM pod started its high pitch squealing, the cat ball lit up, my EMF reader spiked all the way up, and just for shits and giggles I took out the dowsing rods which no matter where I stood just continued to point at the REM pod. What am I supposed to do with that? With everything going off and nothing stopping I resigned myself to find something else to do (mostly because the screaming from the REM pod was burrowing into my autistic brain and was irritating me more than I can express.) I left to find the teens both alone playing with the headphones and radio in the seance room. I made my way in and sat down. One held the earphones close to her head and stated words that she could hear as the radio flipped between stations. The other asked questions for a time but it got a bit mean-spirited and I wasn’t sure what to make of it. I thought at first one may just be trying to scare the other with repeated words like, “death,” “die,” and “cemetery” but by the time it said, “go into the street” the mood didn’t seem jokey. Nonetheless teen two got up and demanded they get a turn with the headphones while teen one spooked out of a seeming trance and claimed to remember nothing of what they’d said. I shifted but continued to observe to make sure nothing got too out of hand. Teen two put the headphones on and started in on the same spooky malarkey. Teen one did not appreciate this and I think may have been a little spooked as well when they got up and put a stop to the whole experiment. Teen two left to see what everyone else was up to as teen one picked up the flashlight which had two settings – UV and normal light. They wanted to see the bloodstains so they put on the UV and directed it at the ceiling at which point it switched on its own to regular light. Annoyed they asked if we could turn out the light so we asked the guide coming around if that’d be alright. He agreed but the flashlight continued to switch. At this point the guide was curious and confused as we were. He took the flashlight and tried himself and it didn’t respond but upon handing it back to teen it switched three more times. He said it’d never done that before. None of us really knew what to make of it so we wandered off to see what my companion was up to. He was in a third room in the basement, in the dark, smiling the biggest grin I’ve ever seen him wear. His EMF meter was lit all the way and a group had formed here and was asking questions which were apparently being enthusiastically answered by the ringing of a little service bell. They believed they were talking to the drown children and were playing games with them. So at this point there’s three rooms in the basement and basically all of them were seeing an insane flurry of activity all at once. That is not what I expected! But the crowd was jubilant and we were all having a good time – until one young man sat in the seance room and put on the headphones. He immediately heard, “I hate you” and ripped them right off. So clearly whatever lives in that room is a turd to everyone. I felt a bit better for not yelling at the girls for being mean to each other as it really seemed to be just an angry ghost. I didn’t think I’d ever be saying that!

By now the night was winding to a close and our spooked teen was thoroughly involved and had a lot of fun but was still concerned about bringing something unwanted home. To appease the household spirits they gave a toy frog they had in their pocket to the tour guide to place in the room upstairs where guests had left all sorts of toys for the ghost children. I left my own tidings in the form if a tip to our gracious host for the evening who I must say wore a period top hat very well!

All and all it was a very exciting night and we were all absolutely tuckered out from all the activity. We did not get to go back to the gift shop which is a shame as we would have bought souvenirs but I did get a special memento in the form of a weird light/mist in one of my few photos which was coincidentally was in the same room as all the devices going on when I was in there alone.

Soooo, would I suggest a ghost hunt at the Lizzie Borden Inn? Absolutely! And having gone on one perhaps we shall join a ghost tour someday to learn more of the history. This place was a wild ride for sure!

The Greater Boston Bigfoot Research Institute – Roxbury MA

I’m a scientific person but more so I’m always in need of whimsy so when we found out there was a Bigfoot Research Institute we just had to give it a good poke.

The challenges to get there were the usual, as my brother says, “Boston isn’t made for cars.” And it isn’t. All the roads were made from old indigenous trails through the woods and probably game trails as well making them a delightfully confusing rats nest of pure chaos. Add to that afternoon traffic, volatile drivers, and teenagers popping wheeling on their bikes while weaving between cars and you end up with me swearing profusely, which let me tell you is not normal. I’m a very chill driver most days but Boston… this Bigfoot better be good!

I found a parking lot a little up the street and we ambled to the address given. I don’t recall if there was even a sign saying what it was. There was however a sign saying ring the bell to deliver packages. Are we delivering a package?

We rung the bell and we’re welcomed in shyly at first. We walked in and found ourselves somewhere strange, again. There was a standing desk, some books for sale around it, and not much in the way of bigfoot except a big stuffed one in the corner and a disorganized pile of random child-oriented bigfoot stuff in a collection of drawers. Confused, someone else came out and started to explain.

The Bigfoot Research Institute was really just a gimmick to use as a storefront and get people through the door but really this place was a creative writing organization (826 Boston) trying to inspire local youths. The books were books all the students had written. And the bigfoot stuff? The gimmick was really to be a spot for kids to gear up to become bigfoot hunters. It used to be something more to see with games and other interactive activities including a phone booth looking thing the kids could sit in as a narrator told them all the places they may go while blowing fans and AC on them for cold climates, etc. It was cute! We were told it was in disarray but if we came back in a year or two it’d be back to it’s former glory.

They also told us other chapters of their organization had completely different gimmicks and handed us a passport in case we may want to see them spread across the country and the world. I don’t get the feeling many adults go through their doors, they were very happy to see us and said if I ever wanted to there are remote volunteering opportunities. I may consider it!

Since we were here… might as well see what those books were about. I bought a book of poetry and my fellow bewildered traveler got a cookbook. The staff, now numbering three, happily burbled to us about their students and what they were working on saying that one of their previous alumni grew up to be Amanda Gorman the youngest inaugural poet in US history.

I read the book of poetry (How We May Appear; Gen Z’s Reflection on Equality through Poems, Essays, and Narratives) and it was pretty powerful to hear from so many diverse young minds, granted I also found it more than a bit heartbreaking. This generation coming up knows there’s not much of a future for them and they’re expressing it in lines like, “When I’m asked what I want to be when I grow up I always answer, ‘alive.'” I sincerely hope our societal climate starts changing. It’s a tragedy to all when brilliant minds are permanently stuck in poverty and exhaustion, unable to reach their potential because somewhere along the way this country forgot what community was and adopted an everyone for themselves take on public policies.

I admit driving to this place was more of a challenge than I appreciated and the bigfoot part of it was a bit of a flop but I’m happy we found this place, talked to some really kind people, and got to hear from a portion of society I rarely get to hear (being childless as I am.)

Anyway, if any of this interests you or you know a kid in the Boston area who could use a little encouragement to keep writing you can find their website at 826 Boston.

Scarecrow Contest – Old Mystic Village – Mystic Connecticut

Going to Old Mystic Village has become something of a habit as of late. Several times a year we now go there to taste flavored honey, poke at the little shops, and delicately nibble on macaroons from Alice’s Teashop. But October is special because in October they decorate the grounds with scarecrows. Each shop has one and they are pitted against each other in competition – the best being voted via phone poll by passersby. I fear we were early this year as there weren’t many up but we still enjoyed looking at them. Regretfully I didn’t get a photo of the scarecrow dog made of a burlap sack but he was pretty damn cool too. Also loved the creativity of the one inspired by Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds.

Provincetown Massachusetts – Just Ambling Down Commercial Street, I Swear!

For the sake of making Catching Marbles more accessible this is the first blog entry which I am trying to post a reading of the entry to listen to. So, if you are so inclined enjoy, otherwise feel free to read it yourself and look at all the pretty pictures! Much love! ~Theo

Provincetown has been on my bucket list for a number of years, but I didn’t really know what to expect. All I knew was that it was a long drive and whomever I brought with me had to be really cool with a whole lot of shit. No prudes, no relatives, just merciless sarcasm and innuendo, like an episode of Hazbin Hotel! (which if you haven’t seen it yet it’s on Amazon Prime. Go watch it. Right now.)

ANYWAY, why would I want to visit New England’s queerest corner? Why wouldn’t I?! I figured it must be a neurodivergent heaven! I mean 1 out of every 6 normal people define themselves as gay but if you only poll autistic people…. literally over 70% of us identify as various flavors of the rainbow. Basically, it’s a giant blinking bug zapper to people like me.

Be this as it may I did not know anyone in my circle wanted to go and was more than happy to take some hostages on this venture. So, with BF and BFF in tow we made our way to Commercial Street, which I am going to say now IS NOT MADE FOR CARS. Do not drive down it! You will be MOBBED with pedestrians and only able to go at max 2 miles an hour until you find a parking lot. The parking lot I found was $15 and came with an attitude. Was I just learning how to drive? No sir, your instructions just suck and it’s making me nervous you’re standing directly in front of my car while I park. I suspect the $20 parking just down the road came with less guff. And a hanging sculpture of a Great White at the entrance….

Now that that was settled we all got out of the car and started our ambling. This was going to be another adventure in ADHD. We were immediately distracted by gargoyles. Fucking GARGOYLES. So, we walked away from Commercial Street to figure out why on earth there was a tower full of gargoyles overlooking the town. As it turns out this was the Pilgrim Monument. For a cool $20 you could take an elevator to the top. Or you could pay nothing and just read the pretty plaques probably stating that the pilgrims first landed in P-town not Plymouth. They merely wandered off and settled in Plymouth.

From here we decided to go back to Commercial Street which was FULL of summer tourists and pride flags of all persuasions. Some of them even flew out of the eaves of Seamen’s Bank which made us all giggle like twelve-year-olds. To be honest everything here seemed to be written with a wink and a nod. Never have I seen an oyster bar so thirsty. “Real men eat it raw.” (I’m really starting to wonder how I am going to contain the rest of this entry within the PG range for the angry and decidedly prudish AdSense gods.) Especially since the first thing we saw was this alleyway covered in…. I’m going to say erotic art. And baby doll heads in cages. My kinda weird.

It wasn’t all adult oriented. We started off within the normal area of family friendly activities stopping by a candy shop and checking off another bucket list item – trying saltwater taffy. It was soft! And sweet… and… I don’t have much of a sweet tooth but I’m glad I tried it anyway. The orange flavored ones were the best. From here we wandered into a little hippie shop with T-shirts and hippie clothing, funny bumper stickers and the usual touristy shit, and a forbidden staircase to the above 18 crowd. Wait, what? You can’t just dangle a forbidden staircase; curiosity will kill the cat (but satisfaction will bring him back.) So, what was up there? A weird convenience store of dildos and hookahs and bongs and pipes and more adult toys… just an overwhelming blizzard of rainbow colors… and textures… and why does this dildo look like it’s made for a platypus? (If you know, you know…and if you don’t you probably shouldn’t google what’s up with platypus bits.)

ANYWAY. We came across a lot that afternoon. Much of it was perfectly tame like a T-shirt shop for funny T-shirts that “can be printed in 9 seconds! Just pick a design!” As well as galleries, so many galleries with such a range of topics. There was even one that was just hyper detailed photos of your eyes. Or someone else’s eyes, but I’m pretty sure the point was to make it your own. And there was an AIDS monument we accidentally found as well as another monument with a ship on it that I would have read if I weren’t also trying to run and catch up with my crew. Lollygagger.

The whole street seemed to be places to eat, dispensaries, adult stores, galleries, tourist traps, billboards for drag shows (dammit, I want to see Hedwig live now!) and a smattering of bookstores. One such bookstore I’m pretty sure was a fairy trap. My companions, also twelve at heart, said damn straight it is a fairy trap. It was down a long alley that was completely covered in vines. How is that not some sort of fae attempt at luring unsuspecting humans?! We’re all idiots because we walked right into it. And it was sweet! A little quiet used bookstore with some really interesting titles… granted a large selection for the LGBT+ community. I enjoyed it.

Then we ended up walking by yet another sex shop but this one had signs in the windows none of us could ignore. One was the shop’s name, “Toys of Eros: More toys than the devil has sinners!” One point for the Greek mythology reference, another for the blasphemy, can we make it any better? Oh yes, they can also have a sign on the door that says they won’t sell to bigots except with MUCH more colorful language. I want to post a photo I took of it on FaceBook but I’d have to censor 30% of the words. SIGH. And beside all that there were promises of a sex museum! Fine… we’ll follow the free candy sign into the big black van just this once. The sex museum was more of an entryway full of terrifying cake mixer looking vibrators. Did you know that the electric vibrator predates electrical outlets? They had to be plugged into light bulb fixtures! So, I guess you can diddle or have light but you can’t have both. They also had a merkin. Looked like a dead rat. And some other things. Of course, by this time we’re in the shop. Clever ploy sex nerds, clever ploy.

First, we saw the case of glass twat ticklers. Slightly terrifying but I’m sure they were phantasma-orgasmic. I was then distracted by a rack of leather puppy masks, which are just… so… perfect…. for wearing when you go back in time just to scare the hell out of people. Hey, no one said it had to be a sexual thing. Sometimes, intrusive thoughts need love too. You could totally be a cryptid. I believe in you. ANYWAY, back to the task at hand – there was a wall of whips and switches and floggers with which to fondle all under a flying mannikin descending from the ceiling on a sex swing. Speaking of uses against manufacturer’s instructions I knew someone once who hoisted her rottweiler into a tree with one of those so she could spray her bath-hating pup down with a garden hose. Try getting that image out of your head.

I think the store clerk was bored because at this point she approached us and started showing us a whole rack of pocket pussies. You may wonder why a gay man and a woman would entertain such a thing but I wasn’t going to walk away without poking at it and HOLY SHIT this feels more real than my own flesh and blood bits! Whaaaaat is going on here?! This is where morbid curiosity gets you. Pondering what decisions in life brought you to this exact moment. They also had some that were less hyper realistic and more demure – and by that I mean hidden in what looked like a coffee thermos. I’m just saying, if I opened up my thermos one day and the death of Adam stared back at me from with it… Well, it’d just make the whole rest of the day weird, you know. Awkward weird. Naked Lunch weird.

It’s OK though because past the trans-friendly corner there was a delightful selection of vibrating muff marauders. Again, the clerk made sure to turn on every one and hand them to me and my companions. So many speeds, and vibration patterns, textures, and sizes. Cute little ones and ones that looked like they were made by Black and Decker complete with attachments. Purple ones, pink ones, black ones, shiny ones. Ones that thrust as well as vibrated! Hell, there was even one that sucked. Quite literally. It was a suction device for lady beans. That one was called the Womanizer. Of course, hearing that I tried to goad the clerk into telling me what was the most offensively named product in the store but she shied away from my cheerful trolling. Shame. I would have enjoyed that list.

As we left the clerk let it slip she was from NH and I had to ask where exactly. This resulted in her asking where I was and when I told her she had the same not great opinion of my town. Said the only good thing about it was the Walmart and the people were miserable. Guys, I’ve been saying this for years, and everyone always says all small towns suck but low! I’ve never felt so validated in my life to meet a complete stranger who sees the unique shittiness of my hometown. BIG SIGH!

It’d been a long but fun day. We’d found food and places to poke at and were really just heading back to the car when we saw a young woman across the street sitting at a typewriter with a sign reading something like, “I’ll write a poem for you.” This intrigued all of us to varying degrees and we went to see what that was all about. In short order we found ourselves talking to her and telling her about our day to which she took a notecard out, placed it in her typewriter, and in the matter of a minute managed to concisely summarize our day with some pretty words. It warmed my Beatnik heart and provided a beautiful souvenir. We decided to give her $20 for her efforts. And you can follow her on Instagram! @sticky6wordbandit

It was getting late and we were heading back to the car but that’s always perfect for yet more distractions. This time we’d be playing with a bunch of dead bugs. There was a whole shop for them! Just… butterflies in frames… and weird creepy crawly keychains… Made my inner bug loving twelve-year-old very happy. And finally we wandered into a well-lit and empty gallery because we’d seen one of the paintings from the street that looked decidedly like an all-male orgy melted like candles into each other in some sort of acid induced hallucination. The other art ranged from beautiful and serene to more erotic scenes. Then there was a little sign pointing to a dark streetside staircase reading, “there’s more in the basement!” Another fairy trap. I wasn’t about to but after reading the sign aloud my companion said we should go down and a disembodied voice from the underworld yelled, “YEAH! YOU SHOULD!” You guys, no, this is definitely a fairy trap. We’re gonna be disappeared. But alas the basement was just a TINY room barely big enough for the three of us and the disembodied voice was the artist who swooped by and up the stairs with all the deftness of… well, I guess a fairy.

I really liked some of the really close up paintings of blueberries and fruit. Sadly, I didn’t have 2 or 3K on me. But none the less I wished him good luck as I popped out of his gallery and into the night. We all agreed that as fun as today was we’d still like to come back and see more. And so that’s how our day ended… with sweet beautiful whimsy and more than a little innuendo. Totally worth it.

Simmons Petting Zoo – Middletown Rhode Island

As part two of our little In Town Life Distraction we made our way from Prescott Farm to the Simmons Petting Zoo which is across the road and almost close enough to throw a rock at from Prescott. Almost. We were greeted with a wash station, a bucket full of cracked corn and ice cream cones, and an honor box asking for $2 a person to fill one of them ice cream cones with cracked corn and distribute them to the animals.

In a prior life I had a little farm with goats and chickens so this wasn’t anything new for me but it was one of those childish things that might bring joy to even adults on the right day. The chickens followed hopefully looking for scraps the goats had dropped and seemed very confused and happy when I gave them a little cracked corn of their own. I love chickens, I would never leave them out. The goats were ALL FOR THE FEED! I poured some from the cone into my hand and offered some to each. They lined up, tried to butt each other out of the way. And they were cute goats in an assortment of colors. There were cows in the background but they seemed indifferent to the presence of humans. I tossed part of my cone to the closest one and it seemed… confused. Maybe cows don’t like ice cream cones. I don’t know. I’ve never owned a cow.

The excitement ended rather quickly with our hands covered in goat drool. Luckily there was a wash station. This was a fun little diversion. If you’re already at Prescott Farm or have little kids who’d like to pet some goats I’d definitely say check it out. I’d also suggest it to local adults who just need a few minutes of happy because who doesn’t need that every now and then?

Prescott Farm Trail – Middletown RI

It’d been a hell of a few weeks for me and unfortunately, I think my chaos gremlin followed me to Rhode Island on this particular week because my usual travel companion wasn’t having an easy go of it either. We both needed desperately to get out of the house but lacked the energy to actually do so. A compromise was made – to stay in town and go back to a destination we’d already been to before – a destination I remember taking photos of but for some reason cannot find said photos or blog entry?? Shame because I took very few photos this time around thinking I already had plenty!

Prescott Farm is the site of a historic farmstead and gristmill. It has one of very few surviving windmills in here in the US built in the early 1800s and there are several other historic buildings also on the property you can poke at. And “gardens,” lots of “gardens” which appear to be wildly out of control fenced in weeds… which I guess are mostly native and probably were used at some point by locals but I definitely saw some things in there that clearly blew in from somewhere else. A vegetable garden this was not. Although I did find a patch of choke cherry trees along the perimeter. SOMEDAY. Someday I’ll have land and chokecherry trees of my own with which to make jam with.

The location is known for its little duck pond where a gaggle of them wait to be fed. We however were here to check out the hiking trails first so off we went past the old homestead, the historic markers, and the windmill, into the woods! The woods were a well needed respite from the heat. Despite the fact that today was hotter and muggier than a teenage Shrek’s jock strap (sorry) the woods were cool and refreshing! And pretty! We found a bunch of little fairy houses that someone had left at random trees and then I spotted a really fat deer – the first one I’ve seen on island in all my visits here! And just beyond the deer we came across a weird bird sitting at the edge of the water just chilling, giving no mind to us whatsoever. My companion thought it was a hawk because of its coloration and short stubby shape, I thought it was a blue heron because of its beak. Drawing closer to it I realized it wasn’t nearly big enough to be a heron and its beak definitely wasn’t that of a hawk. We were both bewildered by the animal who still didn’t care we were staring at it like leering predators. We’d only later learn its identity by posting photos on FaceBook – it was a night heron. I have never heard of such a thing and am growing increasingly concerned I might be wandering ever closer to becoming a birder, the horror. This goes doubly for my companion who thought he heard an owl. This resulted in us both stalking a mourning dove to the chimney of the farmhouse. To be fair the “mourning” sound of mourning doves does sound a bit owl-like.

The trails were very short and sweet and at times a little messy but it was cute and I was happy to have seen some wildlife. We were however about to approach the famous duckpond. Ooooooph, it was very choked in out in weeds, I don’t think they were native either. However, the ducks still persisted, as did frogs, baby turtles, pond skimmers, diving beetles, and a fantastic orgy of every kind of dragon fly you could think of just finding their love match. It was kind of funny. The ducks showed interest in us only as long as it took to figure out our sorry asses didn’t have any food for them and then they wandered off crankily quaking at each other.

This was a nice little diversion – just the amount of green and activity I needed to get back onto a path of a well-regulated nervous system. So, if you’re in town maybe check it out. It’s rather cute, child friendly, and has a little history. Also, the windmill is nice to take photos of.

Random Sights (and Gargoyles) around New Haven Connecticut

Few things make me happier than finding a gargoyle in the wild. Imagine my pure delight when I noticed the church across the Grove Street Cemetery had several! Even better the whole building was COVERED in faces. Why, I have no idea but I was enamored. I wandered around the perimeter of the whole building learning that this was the Yale law school.

I eventually caught the attention of what I presume was a professor watching me with my camera excitedly pointing out every grotesque. He stopped, stood on his bike and watched, probably trying to figure out what I was up to. Was it something to be concerned about? Was I a student? A robber? A tourist? Hard to say.

There were also several other cool buildings and burials as we wandered. New Haven has a weird European feel to it as it is just so damn pretty! Anyway… for fellow hawkers and photographers I highly suggest giving it a good poke!

Looking for Pride Month Suggestions!

Hello world! I know I don’t usually write posts like this but it’s Pride Month and I thought it’d be lovely to celebrate as part of my continued effort to highlight diverse historical narratives here. Only thing is I’m not entirely sure where the best places to go are. So far I’ve had Providencetown MA, Ogunquit Maine, and “the lesbian capital” of Northampton MA suggested. I’ve also had the Edward Gorey House on my list since it became open to the public as he wasn’t just a beloved children’s author but also openly asexual.

So are there any places I should go to celebrate queer history and culture that isn’t already on this list? Let me know! (I’ll also take general suggestions for the rest of the year too!) You can comment here, e-mail me, or find me on just about every damn social media platform there is.

Much love, Theophanes Avery

Mainley Noods Noodle Bar – Portland Maine

After the cryptozoology convention we needed a bite to eat so we ended up at this tiny and adorable noodle bar that seemed more like a hallway than an eatery. Still it was loaded with it’s own quirky charisma with the walls covered in Polaroid snaps of all their customers which was so retro and cute!

Their menu was also unique. I’d never seen half the options here being offered in a bowl of noodles. I took this opportunity to add peanut bits to mine. And it was really good! So good in fact I ate the WHOLE bowl in one sitting. I’ve literally never done that. Noodles bars always give you so much that I end up taking a doggy bag but not today!

Would highly recommend.

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