Category Archives: my neighborhood

Fire and ice 3/4/26

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The world is on fire, and still I want to live.

Here, there is ice. Sleet fell during the night and now early sun sets the encased branches to sparkling. A neighborhood canopied by tiaras, a festival of light. Treachery on the road perhaps, but just look up! There: unspeakable beauty. I want you to see it. 

Every day dishes up contradiction or irony or befuddling complexity. Today I find irony — the sidewalks that have been fastidiously cleared are the most dangerous while the ones where the crunchy snow remains offer secure traction.

Sun makes the branches’ icy sleeves melt and it sounds like rain. Plippety-plop. Can you hear it? Does it do something to your soul to hear it?

Where the road dips down to the school, the field is ringed in a softening mist and though I’ve lived here more than 30 years, it is a novel sight. Funny that. How the ordinary can offer up some kind of miracle. Completely unbidden. Nature’s adornment, weather’s surprise — life still worth living. 

It’s Wednesday, March 4, 2026. I think I’ll make butternut squash soup. I’ve got ginger. I’ve got a chicken carcass to make stock. I have a little heavy cream to splash in the bowl and fresh cilantro or parsley to sprinkle on top.

Sounds good, eh?

Another beautiful day

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Following on another sleepless night. We had thought to go downtown today to support Gaza at a protest at the Israeli consulate, but no … we will write postcards to voters and make some donations to upcoming gubernatorial races instead (VA, NJ) (done, done, and done).

Feel quite literally sick and tired. I’d forgotten that if I chew gummies too many nights in a row, but stomach goes berserk. Oh well.

We walked to the dispensary nearby on Thursday, only to find it shuttered. So there’s that too. I did add magnesium to my pill box yesterday. Fingers crossed.

Pics from yesterday.

Something bled all over the Red Cross quilt. It was folded near the ironing board for weeks and perhaps the spray from my water bottle dampened it and made a red thread run? Or something else, I don’t know.

I unpicked some of the red threads, bought a color catcher for the wash. I’ll let you know how it comes out.

Just listened to an expert talk about system collapse — about how we have maybe four to eight weeks before we reach a saturation point of vulnerabilities. Eegad.

If you’re on insta you can listen here.

I send videos like this to Ken. He reciprocates by sending me fart videos. He knows me well.

The Fairbanks House

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Just twenty minutes from where I live sits the oldest known timber frame residence in North America: the Fairbanks House. It was built circa 1637.

I came across the place online by chance while researching Salem history and half an hour later we had tickets for the 4:00 tour. Can I just say that serendipity and synchronicity are two of my favorite features of research?

How great are docents? Liz Hunter gave us a lengthy and informative tour, one dosed with wry asides. In the photo above she has just demonstrated how one tightened the knotted ropes under the mattress. Hence the saying, “Sleep tight. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.” If done well, a single tightening might last several months.

The patriarch, Jonathan Fairbanks, and his family were part of a wave of immigrants who arrived in Massachusetts for economic reasons (at least, religion wasn’t mentioned). He was a joiner and made spinning wheels.

He, his wife, and their six children stayed with friends in Watertown for a couple of years (think about that: EIGHT GUESTS). After he earned enough money to build their own home, they moved to Dedham.

We learned plenty — about eating habits, hygiene (there wasn’t much), timber frame construction and more. But since it was witchcraft research that landed us here, let me share two features of the tour having to do with witches.

In the photos above and below, the docent is pointing to symbols carved in the mantel, symbols meant to keep witches away.

Also, these black leather shoes were found stuffed way up high in the chimney. Why? To ward off witches. The residents believed that witches were attracted by the smell of humans and would enter the chimney and then be trapped since witches can’t walk backwards.

(I’ve never heard of that, have you?)

And, BTW, if the shoes were pulled out of their glass case, we were told we would smell feet.

Communal beer mug

See previous post for more about this historic site.

Oldest timber frame in North America

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One of the reasons this structure on East Street in nearby Dedham is so well-preserved is because of a lurid court case which drained the family coffers and made it impossible for them to add plumbing, electricity, or heat. That means original walls stood. Original doors, closets, and stairs too.

What happened? Jason Fairbanks was accused of murder. A lover’s tiff gone wrong (he claimed his girlfriend had killed herself), followed by a jail break and run across the state up to Lake Champlain where the young Jason hoped to make it to Canada.

He didn’t. He was tried, found guilty, and executed.

Read The Bizarre Jason Fairbanks Murder Case of 1801 for more details.

I’ll start more at the beginning tomorrow.

But one more colorful detail: the last Fairbanks to occupy the residence, Rebecca, finally moved out when a lightning strike traveled down the chimney and killed her dog Jake.

Hot, just hot

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Eighteen trees were delivered today for the house up the hill. Fortunately the diesel rumble and forklift beeping was short-lived.

Scaffolding coming down from what appears to be an elevator shaft on the project around the corner.

I did make those peanut butter cookies. They’re good! Like the recipe recommends, I dipped the cross-hatching fork in ice water instead of flour. What a difference. After making these cookies dozens of times, I somehow never read that part (no comment).

But mostly I’m here to say it’s hot. Too hot to walk the full Langley-Cypress loop, so we cut through the schoolyard. My guess is this heat will last until the end of September.

I can’t believe I haven’t take a single dunk in water yet this year. Maybe Crystal Lake later?

After spending an hour or so adding to the History Page on this blog, I hit DISCARD instead of UPDATE (also no comment). I was not a happy camper. Of course I found no way to restore the revisions.