What better way to follow up a visit to the pirate museum than to find ourselves a rocking grilled cheese joint?
It was a gorgeous summer day but there was an alarming lack of tourists around. I suppose a sign of the times. Even so I parked in a super easy parallel parking spot in front of the JFK museum having no idea the next half a mile had oodles of parking spots. Oh well, can’t complain too much about getting a little exercise, especially when the stoner-friendly sandwiches we were after were probably about a billion calories each. On this day I did not care.
When we finally arrived we found a vendor and an outdoor cafe space. A woman was already at the window waiting for her order when we ambled up to look at the menu. She turned around to tell us, “Everything is great here! You’re going to love it!” High praise, we both laughed and thanked her for the unsolicited review.
I wanted fries with my sandwhich so we decided to split a poutine and each get a different weird sandwhich. Pretty sure my companion got the Country Boy and myself the Veggie Daddy. The cashier on this day was having a day, for sure. He was straight from a wedding in Florida and clearly very tired. He couldn’t remember the order and asked my companion to repeat Veggie Daddy until it was uncomfortable but luckily we were both laughing at this because it was hot, we were being a pain in the ass taking forever to decide, and we could empathize with a little brain fog. Our reward for being a sport about this was being able to sample their home made hibiscus ice tea and lavendar lemonade. Both were really good but the tea was amazing so the pitch worked!
We sat at one of the tables and waited, our server clearly as entertained by us as we were of him, yelling, “I’m going to take care of you!” And he did. Even drew smiley faces in our dipping sauce. It was fucking adorable.
And the sandwiches… oh my god. Totally worth the fact they probably went straight to the arteries! The dipping sauce was another fun touch. They were SO MESSY and sooo good. I got it all over my shirt and sighed. Can’t bring me anywhere.
I was so full by this point. Even so my server came back out to offer a refill on my ice tea as we were cleaning up. I was tempted but then I’d have to carry an open cup to the car. Instead I thanked my server and smiled. He said, “You guys are great!” Before returning.
I know I haven’t been giving my beloved blog much attention lately but it’s only because my chronic fatigue has been working me over like a steam roller this summer so I haven’t been able to make it out of the house very often. So too has my usual travel companion who is currently being pushed to the brink by his capitalist overlords. As such we both desperately needed a more unusual outing, an extra little escape from the bleakness of reality. I pitched the Wydah Pirate Museum because you can’t beat pirates!
The Wydah Pirate Museum is an entire museum based on one very lucky discovery of a sunken pirate ship off the coast of Cape Cod. I’ve always wanted to see an old wooden shipwreck but am also phobic of the ocean so barring that this seemed a nice compromise.
We ended up during peak traffic hours on a gorgeous summer day so by the time we got there I was in no mood to be fighting with the GPS who didn’t feel it was nessassary to tell me which side of the road I was supposed to find this establishment. It is set back from the road with an underwhelming forefront so I drove right past it and ended up turning into a big seemingly abandoned parking lot which turned out to be almost directly across the road. And then I had to dodge two lanes of unrelenting traffic to get across said road which nearly ended in catastrophe when I saw a break in the traffic and slammed the gas to the floor only to have my wussy little Prius bottom out and only kick in a full second or two later. No one died, not even the Prius. Thank God.
As I drove in I was one of several cars there. Outside there was a big banner above the door to what looked like a big metal warehouse. This was almost as sketchy looking as all those salt water fish stores.
Fortunately the inside was completely different. Two teenagers joyfully tended the entrance desk and told us this was a no photo establishment and self guided tours started in an adjoining room where a short video played on a loop. Under the screen was a big gold bell in a tank which was apparently the first thing they found on this wreck.
Travellings into the museum itself we found LOTS of plaques and information, the usual scattering of creepy wax dummies, and a few cases of random things found. We learned this particular ship had a 40% black crew as well as numerous indigenous members and a random twelve year old runaway whose boot and shinbone were found and were currently on display. This was all news to me. I knew black pirates were a thing but I had no idea there were so many and why would an indigenous person want to be a pirate?? I had no answers on that one although the picture was much clearer for the black crew members who through escape and mutiny had chosen the pirate life over slavery. There was also a small display honoring the women pirates who dressed as men to take on this life which to me sounds like some transmen found belonging in a diverse democracy at sea. I’m telling you pirates sound better at governing than our own land based government.
I also got to see some twisted and broken pirate pistols and learned why pirate guns always seemed so cartoonishly large – its because they’re not hand guns, they’re literally sawed off shotguns. Remind me not to get on the bad side of a pirate.
There was even a little station where you could touch some of the coins dredged up during this escavation. They were well polished and worn by being pawed at by thousands of fingers and yet it was still pretty cool to touch someone’s spare change from hundreds of years ago. Also on display were real gold deblooms and pieces of six. They looked so much more primitive than I’d imagined.
But the most unique display was a whole room of various fish tanks filled with large chunks of the wreck that had been encased in mineral deposits and needed to be slowly melted away with the magic of water erosion. There were X-rays revealing what was in these strange rocks. I had always thought corals may take over these sunken vessels, it never occurred to me they’d be slowly enveloped by rock over time, like fossils! Of pirate guns.
Finally there was a slew of displays on what ultimately happened to the pirates who were caught. Spoliers: nothing good. Sort of brought my mood down a bit to be honest. I was rooting for these probably ADHD-addled sea rogues.
We took a moment to play at the knot tying station before scanning the gift shop for morbid loot. There were indeed books a plenty but I left them on this day feeling the $18 entrance fee was already quite enough to spend.
Off we went. I took a selfie outside with one of the wooden pirates so I’d have something to post here, having obeyed the rules of the inside museum.
I decided to go berry picking this summer because its been many many years since I have done so. And I heard rumors there was a berry farm nearby that had more than just blueberries. Monadnock Berries boasted of blueberries, raspberries, goose berries, red currants, black currants, and white currants. I have never eaten gooseberries or currants so I was keen to check this out. I brought my mother with me even though she’d heard it’d be expensive.
There were signs from the center of town you could follow but it was pretty far out in the woods on a dirt road. You just had to trust there’d be more signs or that your GPS was worth trusting.
Finally we got to the farm which had a nice dirt parking lot on a hill. We followed more signs into a cute little shop which had pre-picked berries, maple syrup, and a few other commodities. There were also cartons and buckets of various sizes to go picking ourselves. We were told we could mix all the berries if we chose to except for the raspberries. They were more expensive and apparently turn into sludge if you pile other berries on top of them – hence the need for separation. As such I declined the raspberries and bought a “small bucket” for $22. It didn’t look big but boy, by the time we were done we had over four pounds of berries! That’s an overflowing large Pyrex mixing bowl! If you’re familiar with how much a tiny carton of berries cost you’ll know this was a steal, the very opposite of expensive.
There were maps via QR code but also signs everywhere. The blueberries were endless, just bunches of bushes. We found the raspberries next, and in front of them was the first row of currants, all black. I tried them and found them to be quite displeasing to my pallet but this was a matter of personal taste. The red currants were nearby and had a remarkably different flavor profile. They were very tangy! I started throwing fistfuls of them into the bucket. The bushes at first didn’t look like they had much on them but with a little closer inspection the lower branches were heavy with berries.
My mother at this point got very into picking red currants and took some convincing to move on. The gooseberries were a good walk away, snuggled next to the white currants which had a delightfully mild taste. The gooseberries were robust in their unique flavor. These two ended up being my favorite berries of the day.
By now it was getting hot, I was overheating, and it was threatening to rain. Our bucket was nearly full anyway so I said we should get some blueberries to top it all off as we walked back towards the store. I was surprised to find the blueberries from different rows also tasted different, perhaps they were of different varieties. I settled on a bush with very large blueberries which I felt were the sweetest. When the bucket was filled we walked back to the counter which felt like it was miles away in the heat. When we turned in the bucket the teenage cashier pulled out the plastic bag lining the bucket and exclaimed how happy it made her to see currants under the top layer of blueberries. Both the teenage girls working today were so friendly and funny I couldnt help but adore their youthful enthusiasm. I paid my $22 and got a cold drink to go.
All and all this was a really fun day. We made out like bandits and there were some adorable goats in a pasture next to the parking lot. This place was awesome. Well worth a visit and family friendly to boot! I could have spent all day taking photos of the luscious berries and the sprawling mountain landscape beyond. This place was gorgeous. I guess that’s why they also host weddings here on Saturdays. I was impressed.
On our way back from the Moore Manor Lavendar Farm we happened upon an old fixture, the Bradstreet farm stand. My mother grew up in these parts and remembers fondly going to school as a child with some of the members of the family that owns this farm.
We had stopped by on this day to see good things we could get to eat and we were not disappointed! Although it was still early in the season they still had quite a bit to offer. I grabbed a bag of fresh peas, some pickling cucumbers, two plump tomatoes, some beets still connected to their greens, and a couple zucchini. Later against the wishes of my body I’d eat the most delicious cucumber and tomato sandwhich with boiled beet greens for dinner later on. No complaints here! Well, aside from my gall bladderless digestive system which now believes cucumbers to be poison. Still worth it. The peas also served for a fun snack for me as I like them raw.
These veggies were pricier than the super market but much fresher and I can’t help but want to support these local ventures as much as I can, especially seeing how old most of our farmers are these days. On this day it was no different as a grandmotherly lady took our money at the counter and quietly laughed at our conversation.
I ended up at Moore Lavendar farm twice in one week due to an accidental theft. But before I get to that I’ll tell you a little bit about the place.
Moore Manor Lavendar is pretty easy to get to and has a weird little field parking lot as farms usually do. My travel companion on this day was just relieved they also had two portapotties, one attached to the parking lot and one outside the gift shop.
I have heard of pick your own berries or apples but this was my first time at a pick your own lavendar farm. And it was set up really lovely with all sorts of places to sit and enjoy the scenery and aroma. There was even a food truck and on this day two separate groups of picknickers.
They had the drying shed opened up for view to the public as well as a gift shop with everything lavendar you could possibly want. Lavendar bundles, lavendar soap, lavendar clothing, paintings of lavendar, and even lavendar tea and jam. I had no idea you could (or would want to) eat lavendar. But why would I? The smell of lavendar has always given me migraines so I usually stay the hell away from it. Why was I not on this day? Because I’m not very smart, that’s why. And oooo, was it pungent that day! My head was swirling, I was overheating in the sun, and my blood sugar was crashing from a lack of breakfast. Admittedly because of these factors the first trip out was…. unpleasant for me. Still I stuck around as my group picked bundles of lavendar. They were given a twist tie to put said bundle in, some scissors to snip them off the bush, and directions on how to do so and from which bushes, all recieved at the gift shop. Just outside the gift shop pots of live lavendar were set out for sale to anyone who may want to bring this little agricultural adventure home.
Admittedly, I did little on this first day besides find a nice spot away from the activity to just sit and watch. But then after paying for her bundle my mother in her usual fit of ADHD forgot to turn in the three pair of scissors and walked off with them.
This is how we ended up back there two days later and this time around it was cooler, my stomach was full, and I’d mastered breathing through my mouth. In doing so I noticed this place was kind of gorgeous. There was several gardens scattered about with all kinds of different flowers and I spent some time just taking photos of their beauty. We were also greeted warmly and thanked for returning the ill-begotten scissors.
This place was fun, family friendly, and was pretty cheap. On the day we went they were running a two for one deal so we ended up bringing two lavendar bundles home for only six or seven dollars, I can’t quite remember.
It was a somber day for a great deal of people and suffice to say on this year’s Independance Day I wasn’t feeling particularly like celebrating. It was a grim week and I wasn’t the only one feeling the crushing weight of current events.
But as the day progressed the mood started to change as so many of us checked in on each other. We acknowledged things were getting really bad but under the doom and gloom a seed of hope began to grow. We were going to survive this, beat it, and after that? The world is going to get better, be more kind. And in the meantime, while we all fight back in our own ways, it was important to remember one thing: no one owns our joy but ourselves. And it’s important to foster community and joy, especially in these tough times, to shine so bright no one can dim our inner light. But it still felt off to do the usual BBQ and fireworks, so now what?
For me I knew what my soul needed: a walk into the woods. And so with my mum and her little dog we headed to Country Road where I knew there were trails. I thought it was just another section of the rail trail but I was confused by the maps at the kiosk when I got there. They didn’t really match the paper maps they were dispensing and nothing looked like a rail trail. Still I saw one trail seemed an easy loop so we started by walking across the road from our parking spot and onto what looked like a small paved street being taken over by nature. However this only seemed to lead us to a quaint little residential neighborhood with private property signs everywhere. Where was the trail?? I had no idea so we headed back to the car and tried the trails directly aside the parking area beyond a gate.
From here we walked until we found a little pedestrian bridge and cobbled over it. There was another kiosk beyond with the same map with unnamed trails. We ended up taking what turned out to be a trail that I think was called Marsh View but I only saw the sign after completing it. Guess we went backwards. There were a couple benches and one view of the marsh. It was a decent enough trail if you’re looking for something easy, short, flat. The dog seemed to really enjoy it and despite the confusion the trails all looked well traveled. There was other people out there probably less confused than us.
I will likely go back and check out the other trail options. For today it was the perfect little distraction. A pleasant small walk into lush greenery. We managed to get back to the car before the tiny dog pooped out and before I overheated so it was a win on all sides.
About a month ago my mother decided she wanted a garden and ever since I’ve been outside battling a backyard that looks like the jungles of Vietnam.
Initially I had planted some seeds indoors but most did not make it. Then a couple weeks ago I started visiting a series of nurseries with no vegetables left. What gives?? Today I was determined to find something, anything, to put in this damn garden. And that’s how I ended up sooo far off the beaten path today.
I’d never been to the Mason Hollow Nursery but I thought it’d be a good place to check out. People seemed happy with it from the reviews. And so off I went!
Driving in Mason is like going back in time. It’s a town with a modest population but a surprising amount of land which results in a lot of long winding dirt roads to nowhere, the sort of roads you’re never quite sure are roads or just really long driveways. The road to the Mason Hollow Nursery was no different. It was a dirt road jutting off another dirt road. I don’t remember seeing a street sign buuut there was a huge sign with the business name and hours on it do I followed it… in a Prius… down a one lane dirt road with banking on either side making turning around impossible. Even so there were signs everywhere this wasnt quarry parking. How?! Where?! And what is this quarry you speak of?? It seemed to go on forever and get increasingly sketchy with one part that was clearly patched after a wash-out. It made me more than nervous. Then from the forest emerged a few houses which was fortunate because had it not been for their driveways there would have been no way to get around the SUV coming from the opposite direction. Still, these signs of civilization only proved to make me question even more where I was and if this adventure was going to end well. Finally I came to the end at a small dirt parking lot in front of a barn and attached greenhouse. Guess this was it? But it was still a bit confusing. Did I have to go into the barn?
Luckily a small group of people were here as well as a big fluffy Burmese Mountain Dog, all inside the barn. So I walked in and found a small cashier corner and beyond the barn? A huge nursery! An elderly gentleman asked if this was my first time here and gave me a quick run down of what’s what. His wife had started this place and specialized in hostas but there wasalso some succulents, some bushes and trees, some ferns, and around the corner what was left of the veggies.
I took a look at all the flowers but they weren’t blooming yet. The trees and ferns made me giggle a bit. They seemed like varieties I could dig out of the woods here. But then the plants got more interesting. There were several varieties of carnivorous plants next to the vegetables and they were large, very healthy, and absolutely gorgeous. I struggled to find a price tag but I’m sure they were pricey, they always are when you can find them. This was the first time I’d seen them in a local nursery! No matter
I found the veggie section. They were all tomato plants that looked like they’d been in the pot too long and we’re starting to turn yellow. Still, I knew I was late in getting plants this year and they were healthier than the last two nurseries I left empty handed from. Plus, I’d like to support this small local business. They were $5 each. I picked through them and chose the two best looking. I tried wandering up to the check out but got very distracted by a succulent section with some brilliantly colored succulents. The elderly woman responsible for the tomatoes this year asked if I needed a cart. I said no, I was good carrying these two. She told me the Kracken variety was giving her tomatoes into November last year. SWEET.
At the check-out I was told the tomatoes were actually not $5 a piece. It was the end of their season and they’d been marked down to $1.25 each. Seriously?? I excused myself and went back for several more varieties, spending $10 on eight plants. Six different tomato varieties.
Checking out I had a fun chat about the dog who apparently swims like a seal and once got lost using a bed of kelp as a raft. Good times!
I will definitely tell others of this place that seemed like it was out of time. Beautiful plants, wonderfully friendly staff, and an independent business. Whats not to love?
I planted the tomatoes and with any luck should have them growing like crazy soon.
On this particular outing we weren’t expecting to find much worthy of photography as this cemetery seems to have a rule about only using flat headstones and nothing else making it look more or less like a mowed field.
However there was a lichen covered bridge that made for a delightful photographer’s distraction as well as some sort of witchy resource? Something about water that goes under a cemetery… I’m not a witch so I just blinked at this information.
Another even better distraction was across the parking lot where a church hid all the interesting headstones! The churchyard was small but unique. On this day it was being set up for what I’m guessing was a wedding. An overworked groundskeeper jokingly asked if I was in need of a few buckets of grass. Not today!
We resumed checking out the stones. The first one I saw that stood out was a full bronze woman lying down with a small horse at her feet. Nearby were slate stones with family crests, dragons, and castles. It was very weird! Like we just stumbled into a European cemetery. And then there wad a creepy snarled tree that also distracted me for a few minutes before we made our way back to the car.
I know life is getting...grim for a whole lot of people right now but that only confirms that free entertainment and beauty are more needed now than ever and the Yale Art Gallery is free with so much to offer!
We expected a nice museum, though not enormous, maybe with a famous name or two tossed in we can recognize but no, this place was huge. Four whole floors just chuck full of fine art with so many famous names. A real smorgasbord of human creativity that touched on so many cultures and time periods around the world.
Of course I was already in a good mood because I managed to parallel park almost directly in front of the door in one try, during traffic, without attracting an audience of spectateurs. And then I had enough quarters to stuff that goddamn parking meter until it timed out. It’s the little things in life we must celebrate.
ANYWAY. The first exhibit we walked by on the main floor was the African section. I admit, I do not know much about African art or culture, which I realize I could be better at. These pieces were mostly tribal but from all over the continent. A lot of wild animals, masks, colorful figurines. Granted we were the only ones there and the guard followed us around like he thought we were going to stage a heist. Little intense. But I suppose… we’re both white and our ancestors were likely dicks sooo… I get it. But that’s not to say some white people aren’t capable of being respectful.
To be fair since we were there during an intense lull the first two floors had guards who continued to follow us. It was… uncomfortable. At one point I found a silver serving tray made by Paul Revere and went to point out the plaque that this information was written on when a guard barked at me not to touch the exhibits (in this case literal furniture hiding the damn plaque.) My inner 8-year-old knee-jerk responded by yelling, “I DIDN’T TOUCH ANYTHING!” And I honest to god didn’t. Not that my dirty paws could turn furniture (much we’d already seen at antique stores) into dust but you know, respect and all. The last concerning encounter we had was with a very large black guard literally hiding in the shadows of a nook waited for us to pass before saying in a booming voice, “How are you today?” But it wasn’t his stature that made me weary, nor the fact he was hiding in the shadows, it was the pained wheezing that came after his salutations that made me want to ask if he was OK. His facial expression did not seem to be the sort who’d want to be checked in on so I uncomfortably scuttled away, wondering if I was being trolled for being just another timid looking white chick. (I’m totally fine with a little teasing if this was the case.)
Luckily people started to fill the museum and we stopped getting tailed right around the time I squealed with excitement to see not one, not two, but three Van Goghs, none of which I’ve seen before, and I’ve seen almost his entire catalogue save for those in personal collections and Starry Night which is always on tour. That one’s on my bucket list but this one… was a lovely surprise!
We also got to see some Georgia O’Keefe landscapes, some decidedly not ballerina Degas, a couple Jackson Pollocks which looked exactly like the projectile baby vomit and/or splooge I thought it’d look like, quite a few Picassos that seemed like a decent into madness, er, I mean Cubanism, and some others that sounded vaguelly familiar.
These notables were smattered about in different places but we got to see a lot. Roman pottery and mosaics, a likely haunted ancient Meso-American doll, another Meso-American figurine that looked bizarrely like the trash Muppet in The Labyrinth, a gorgeous intensely ornate Buddha that was courting a young photographer who was taking photos of EVERY angle, a delightful depiction of Kali, another Buddha that was thin and serene, some unreasonably jacked baby Jesuses, some Cherubs that probably came from the depths of Hell, some fun abstract sculptures, an exquisite painting of a baby declaring her mom’s titty as her territory, some photography that gave me some ideas about my own, a bunch of “you know what a baby/horse/cat/dog look like, right?” Kinda paintings. A cursed jester, a terrifying baby tinman, some other super questionable scenes on canvas. Oh! And some really impressive shadow puppets! Which were colored on their back sides??
We were having so much fun by this time we had to go back out to feed the meter again. All and all we were there for almost three hours. We saw everything and even swung by the gift shop to buy a magnet and some post cards.
This place was so worth the drive and the fact it was free was astounding. And it was right next to the British Art Museum if you really want to be a glutton for free art. We were pretty exhausted though so we saved this for another day. Perhaps after I remember more than just Banksy as British artists…
This place came out of the blue for me. My travel companion gave me an address to drive to but didn’t say what it was so I was a little surprised it was not another antique store but rather a tiny shop full of dead things. Signs outside said goths were welcome. Okaaaaay…
Inside was a tiny shop set up in a retro circus freak show sort of way. In a series of curios cabinets there were bizarre taxidermy, sarcastic pins and patches, mildly radioactive earrings, and a large silver serving platter full of human teeth! Only incisors.
We bought two grab bags labeled “shit” to be supportive of such an odd shop since we didn’t have the cash to buy the toaster in a bathtub taxidermy duckling. They were full of delightfully weird stickers. Who knew Plaistow was such a fun town! This seemed like the perfect stop after Zoo Creatures… like going from an exotic pet store to the afterlife of an exotic pet store. Fun for all! If you’re unapologetically weird.
