Michael and I sat in the sixth row at Mountain Park last night for one of the best shows I've seen. Here's what they played:
Perth
Minnesota, WI
Towers
Brackett, WI
Holocene
Beach Baby
Hinnom, TX
Wash.
Blood Bank
Flume
Michicant
Re: Stacks
Calgary
For Emma
Encore:
Skinny Love
Beth/Rest
The Wolves (Act I and II)
They had two drummers along with a FULL band, which led to the shaking of my raincoat (Justin Vernon declared the motto of the night: "You can either get wet. Or not.") and chest, which led to a little bit of a tear to the eye on a few occasions. Also, one of the musicians looked like a cross between Mark Ibold and Eric D. Johnson.
With the exception of a few front-row ladies who were eventually asked to take a seat by security, we all sat and took it in. And head-bobbed. Until the very end and the three encore songs, when everyone stood up to rush the stage. Michael and I promptly headed toward the exit to watch the encore from the near-exit, aside an umbrella-bobbing couple.
As we drove away, the rain got heavier and we chatted about our favorite songs of the night.
On my morning walk with Sully this morning I spotted a sunflower reaching above the bushes that line the parking lot across the street from our apartment. These are the same bushes where I discovered a birdhouse this past winter. These are the same bushes that surround the parking lot where groups of teenagers choose to hang out, spouting out f-bomb's at regular intervals. And talking REALLY REALLY LOUDLY. There were fireworks being set off (big fireworks - the kinds that require a tube) up until about a week ago. Most of the time, though, it's pretty quiet.
I think it's pretty safe to say that the bumblebees are enjoying the abundance of flowers in our yard this summer as much as I am. And Sully likes hunting the bees equally as much. The past couple of days she has joined us on the porch and has pretty quickly discovered the little insects buzzing around these purple flowers. She apparently could spend hours resting on her back legs, watching them buzz around, trying to snatch one every once in a while.
Nubby was purchased at the Walgreens down the street from where my best college buddies and I recently spent a long weekend. He provided hours of entertainment in the apartment in Gloucester and he got to see some sights in Boston (Harvard post-graduation, George Washington's 1775-1776 garden, an old cemetery, the Charles River). He's a funny little guy who lights up and is squishable in so many ways. We have named our second annual get-together in his honor. As the only person not traveling on a plane and potentially having to explain him to an FAA official, I was lucky enough to inherit him.
Our new tradition has proven to be a ridiculously fun, relaxing, recharging one. I'm already looking forward to next year's get-together, which will bring us all back to Colorado College for our tenth reunion. We're old.
my classmate's sheltie's ears: one perky, one folded
my classmate's sheltie resting her front paws on my chest
getting a better grade than expected on my Animal Diseases exam
the arrival of new sizes of boxes to ship stuff in at work (sad but true...)
Becky's and my semi-regular "idea" of the day: life-sized people decals to stick on the store's window so customers stop trying to exit through the window rather than the door
leaving work on a Friday
seeing Brooke and Oliver during my run on the canal bike path
It has slowly turned into mud season (Spring) in western Massachusetts. This means we can walk Sully over to Unity Park.
The snow has melted just enough so that she can run like mad after a winter of not having much of a chance to do so. Watching her dart back and forth and bunny-hop every once in a while never gets old.
Taking pictures of your dog peeing also never gets old.
This was our second trip this Spring and with his new-found tree knowledge Michael has been able to identify some butternut trees...
Once the pond behind the butternuts thaws and becomes pond-scummy all of the dogs in the land will make their owners mad by jumping right in. Some dogs prefer pond scum to this nice clean water on the opposite side of the park...
Each change of season in New England brings its own flavor of Quaint New England Tradition. Spring's is the trip to the sugar house. Around four years ago, Michael and I discovered South Face Farm in Ashfield. It's a forty-minute drive up into the hills from Turners Falls. The trip is just long enough to play our ritual For Emma, Forever Ago. As we wind our way down the side streets and approach the farm, Re: Stacks starts to play...
Things seem to slow down and we start noticing the sugaring lines bordering the road. This year, Michael was able to identify the trees we saw: a lot of yellow birch, some beech with plenty of blight, and of course sugar maples.
As we start seeing cars that we assume are leaving the sugarhouse, we fool ourselves into believing that this means that the crowd is starting to peter out and we won't have much of a wait. We lucked out last year and walked right into the restaurant when we got there. But that somehow felt wrong. We didn't really work for our maple syrup.
This year, we drove up to the sugar house to see a busload of senior citizens from Agawam unloading. Michael found a parking spot close to the entrance and stopped to let me out. I slipped past a few of the passengers, until I had just one of them between me and the sign-up sheet for a table. As he stopped to look around the crowded waiting area, I squeezed through a few families to grab the pencil hanging on the wall and scratch my name onto the list. Just in time to beat out the bus's 13-person party. I slipped back out, guiltily pretending not to hear the last passenger (in bright red Red Sox fisherman's cap) saying "you beat me!"
Since we knew it would be a bit of a wait, we walked down the street to look at some more trees, listen to the birds, and to enjoy the quiet...
...so quiet...
We made our way back toward the sugar house to get our honor system coffee and donut in the waiting area. Having been there a few times now, I enjoy watching the newbies discover the sugaring videos and paraphernalia and the map on the wall with pins from all around the world.
When our name was called after waiting about a half hour, we headed into the low-ceilinged restaurant to see who we might be sharing our table with. This year, we were led to an empty table. It was soon filled with a third of the bus party; one of whom had good-naturedly and prematurely blurted out "we got rid of them!" as we headed into the restaurant a few minutes earlier.
I ordered my usual Combo Plate #1 with two strips of bacon: one pancake, one piece of french toast, and one corn fritter (which I had dreamed of the night before). I chowed down as our "we got rid of them" friend remarked that she hoped that her pancake would be bigger than mine.
We left happy and armed with our annual quart of Grade B maple syrup and a little maple cream bonus this year.
