Acadia and Elsewhere

On the first Sunday in October, we visited Acadia National Park on Maine’s Mount Desert Island. It’s the furthest East I’ve been.

I found a temporary artifact left behind on the aptly-named Sand Beach.

Sand Beach is one of the park’s most popular attractions, for obvious reasons.

A cove along the park’s stunning coastline.

Triumphant waterfowl as seen from the Ocean Trail.

A typical stretch of Park Loop Road.

The view from Otter Cove, facing South.

Along Otter Cove, looking North.

Cadillac Mountain, a trip up which we decided to save for our next visit.

Pines along Jordan Pond.

After leaving the park, we spent a few hours in nearby Bar Harbor, a port popular with tourists. Above, a juxtaposing of two very different types of ships that often frequent it.

CJ’s Big Dipper on Main Street, across from the Village Green (I always thought the latter only existed in England.)

Swatches of Bar Harbor remain gloriously un-gentrified, like this vintage stained-glass sign, complete with Rexall logo.

Another blast from the past. What could this be?

It’s the underside to this classic marquee, which predates the movie theater I work at by one year.

We actually stayed near Boothbay Harbor that weekend, taking an easy day trip from there to Acadia. Above, a Boothbay Harbor business I always visit when in town.

Spotted at another bookshop in nearby Damariscotta (sadly, it was too late in the day for browsing.)

My husband and I have spent considerable time in Boothbay Harbor (even getting married near there), but not so much in Wiscasset, which once has to pass through in order to get there if coming from Portland or any point South. In Wiscasset, this combination of old lettering, filmsy white curtains and christmas lights (in October!) intrigued me to no end.

Wiscasset is tiny but full of charming signage for businesses new and old.

Perhaps Wiscasset’s most famous, iconic eating establishment (in summer, there’s usually a long line of people leading up to that window), and one I hope to try someday.

Pumpkin Season

Upon returning to Coastal Maine Botanical Gardens, we found it overrun with pumpkins.

Piles and mounds of pumpkins all over the grounds, suffusing clear blue October skies with more than just a hint of orange.

There was also a row of pumpkins.

An endless procession of pumpkins, in fact.

However, the gardens also had room for a variety of gourds, those less-loved pumpkin cousins.

Some miniature gourds adorned window boxes…

…while others hung from the rose arbor on strings.

Swaying happily in the sunshine… or HANGING FROM THEIR DEATHS?

Not a pumpkin, although wouldn’t it be great if they came in this exact color?

Also not a pumpkin, but after seeing so many I couldn’t help but notice all the other pumpkin-shaped plants at the gardens.

Also also not a pumpkin, but… (you get the idea).

Again, not a pumpkin (though you can spot some in the background), but one of a few new steel sculptures currently on display.

Those pumpkins do often seem to be lurking in the background.

In addition to naturally orange pumpkins, there were a few painted pumpkins scattered throughout: some in bright colors…

…others cloaked in silver or gold.

Still, nothing beats the autumnal glow of an orange pumpkin patch.

Woods Hole

Right next to Falmouth, the village of Woods Hole is at the very Southwestern tip of Cape Cod. As a ferry port to Martha’s Vineyard, it gets a lot of heavy traffic, but its remoteness helps it to stand apart from many of the Cape’s other likeminded enclaves.

Eel Pond sits in the center of town, providing a marina for local boat craft.

I’d like to know how this one got its name. Cute logo, but I can’t help but want to read it as “Cot’s Pow”.

Some significantly larger boat craft docked in the Great Harbor leading out towards the Atlantic.

The Water Street bridge in mid-ascent, allowing passage from Great Harbor to Eel Pond.

I love bright red maritime lamps, although their placement is important–they probably wouldn’t work as fixtures in my current landlocked home.

Bits and pieces of Woods Hole remain stuck in another time, like this sign…

…and this one (though I can’t place whether it’s old or just made to look that way.)

Representing modern Woods Hole, an honest-to-god film festival that’s actually been around for almost a quarter century.

Even more mod.

Ah, but who doesn’t love a classic ship, even one rendered as a sign?

Stroll around town and you’ll find quirky public structures like this upright sundial.

Across Eel Pond on Millfield Street sits the Angelus Bell Tower.

The Angelus has a door devoted to Saint Joseph…

…and wouldn’t you know it, Saint Joseph’s church is right across the street.

As with Saint Joseph’s, the neighborhood is dotted with charming old architecture.

Given its location, Woods Hole is a natural home for an aquarium, an oceanographic institution and the Marine Biological Laboratory (whose Lillie Laboratory is pictured above.)

This MBL building is at least a few decades younger than nearly any other in town. To say it sticks out is an understatement, but I can almost appreciate its modern vulgarity in the middle of all this traditional New England style.

Summer Assortment

Since I took my summer vacation in late spring, I’m left with a true assortment of photos taken over the season that don’t really lend themselves to thematic photo essays; thus, I present the best of the rest, like this perfect pink rose spotted on Marlborough Street in Boston’s Back Bay.

One expects a statue of George Washington at the Boston Public Gardens, but not necessarily palm trees.

The BU-West T stop on the B line: note the slender vertical gleam along the John Hancock Tower.

Another view of the Hancock Tower, looking down Blagden Street in back of the Boston Public Library – a good representation of the city’s architecture from numerous eras.

The new Liberty Mutual building, as viewed through structural latticework of the Back Bay commuter rail station.

On a balmy mid-July Tuesday evening, an outdoor screening of Hitchcock’s The Birds at The Coolidge at the Greenway.

Tippi watches the Greenway, who in turn watches her.

This truck with the distinct, cute logo is a Haymarket mainstay.

The monolithic “luxury condos” at Commercial Wharf along the Waterfront.

Striking signage on Parmenter Street in the North End.

Crossing the Charles River into Cambridge, Sew Low Discount Fabrics in its last days; I remember shopping there for curtain-making material way back in ’98.

For those longing for Sew Low, fear not: there’s another business further up Cambridge Street with a punny name (though not as good of one).

Closer to my side of town, the Casey Overpass at Forest Hills, mid-dismantle. It’s entirely gone now (save a support column or two); I still can’t get over how much brighter the area now appears.

And, just down the road from my place, the lovely Mother Brook as seen from Dedham Blvd.

Millennium Park, slightly later in the season.

An unseasonably chilly mid-July Saturday at Two Lights State Park in Cape Elizabeth, Maine.

On the same day: calm, curving Nonesuch River in nearby Scarborough.

Luckily, the sun soon shone on the Nonesuch.

Cape Neddick, Maine. Home of the Nubble Lighthouse, but I already have far too many pictures of that.

A bright afternoon at the Plymouth Breakwater near season’s end.

Signs of Newburyport

The second-last town on Massachusetts’ North Shore before you hit New Hampshire, Newburyport has a charming historic center full of vintage, well-kept brick buildings and plenty of interesting signage.

Even some vintage signage remains, like this one for Fowle’s newstand/soda fountain, recently converted into 17 State Street Cafe. I wonder if they plan on doing anything to that faded storefront.

Seemingly every other New England coastal town has a similarly-named establishment, a la The Drunken Clam.

Still, not all of Newburyport is stuck in the past, as you can see via the modern signage above.

The trend continues along Pleasant Street.

Artisan shops, wine and cheese boutiques–this is clearly not your father’s Newburyport.

Tucked away from Pleasant down Hales Court, a little bit of whimsy from Fun Way Tutoring.

Back on Pleasant, some simple, effective, pragmatic signage.

Practically around the corner, other “dogs”, though I question just exactly what’s in them for such a low price.

You can get yer two-bit frankfurters at Richdale’s, which somehow continues to cultivate business in the age of Shaw’s and Stop N Shop.

Poking through a Pleasant Street window, I spotted this over-the-top font, safely confined from most passersby.

Down Green Street, the quieter, classier side of Newburyport signage…

…but not one without any groaning puns.

Back to Pleasant Street and Pretty Poppy at twilight.

Come to Newburyport for the signage, stay for the gorgeous, late-Summer Saturday evening.

Three Colorado Parks

My last round of Colorado pix looks back at three other places we visited. First up, Lory State Park, just outside Fort Collins. We arrived on a cloudy Sunday afternoon that eventually gave way to at least an inkling of blue sky.

Lory State Park has many grassy, sloping hills.

As with Rocky Mountain National Park, we didn’t see as many wildflowers as we hoped to, although we spotted the occasional outlier.

We hiked up the Well Gulch Nature Trail; near the top, we could make out Horsetooth Reservoir through the pines.

A heavenly, panoramic shot of Horsetooth Reservoir.

Zooming in along the red rock ridges next to the Reservoir.

We walked all the way down to the water where we found picnickers, partiers and a few people out fishing.

Although we spent most of an afternoon at Lory State Park, we saw but a fraction of it. Above, looking Southward, it appears to stretch on and on.

Our second park is the Colorado Chautauqua in Boulder. Part of the historical Chautauqua adult education movement, it is the only one west of the Mississippi River still operating today.

We went primarily to see the Flatirons, a dramatic, pointy mountain range.

Our view as we made our way upwards.

Luckily, blue skies were more abundant than at Lory State Park.

Entering the serene Enchanted Mesa.

A typical view while hiking through the park.

After leaving the Enchanted Mesa, we arrived at a scenic overlay of Greater Boulder.

As I said, the Chautauqua is still pretty active, as you can see in this spiffy Dining Hall.

Our third and final park is Garden Of The Gods near Colorado Springs. Above, a wide-angle view of it with Pikes Peak in the distance.

Essentially a set of red rock formations, Garden of the Gods is visually stunning, fairly contained (you can walk the central part of it in less than an hour) and free to the public (so expect hordes of fellow tourists depending on when you go).

This gives you a sense of scale re: rocks vs. everything else.

This teeny tiny hiker probably provides an even better sense of scale.

You can make out this formation’s “kissing camels” at the center.

Two tiny birds rest on a typically twisty formation.

The “Cathedral Spires”: they remind me a bit of peanut brittle.

Not all the rock formations are red; this whitish-gray stuff even boasts a few trees on top.

One of the central garden trails, to illustrate what walking around the park is like.

Postcard-perfect views of Pikes Peak await behind the red rocks: a sight worth even driving to Colorado Springs for.

Denver Botanic Gardens

We drove down from Fort Collins to Denver on a Wednesday morning. Before checking in to our hotel, we walked around the Denver Botanic Gardens.

A 23-acre urban oasis located in the Cheeseman Park neighborhood, the Denver Botanic Gardens at York Street aren’t as expansive as the Boerner or as gorgeous as Boothbay’s or unique as Toronto’s (on the other hand, they’re a heck of a lot better than Key West’s); thus, I was pleasantly surprised when looking over the pix I took there to find a lot of gems. Above, in the background sits the aptly-named Science Pyramid.

Actually, sections of the Gardens felt a little dated in appearance, like this severely shaped open space, designated as the UMB Bank Amphitheatre.

Apparently, we just missed the Dale Chihuly exhibit, although he left behind this vibrant piece.

The most distinct (and arguably visually striking) section of the park? The Water Gardens.

I took numerous shots of lily pads, but managed not to capture any frogs.

And now, on to the flora. I don’t think I’ve ever seen these peculiar-shaped purple-and-pink ones before.

A vast selection of irises on display, including basic white…

…and this striped purple hybrid.

Early June is a great time of year for roses.

A peach of a rose.

We also managed to find a few remaining lilacs; if we visited two weeks later, I doubt we would have seen these.

I made sure to document this peony’s unlikely name. When you think of peonies, think of Ohio’s third largest city.

I wish I had recorded the name of this sunny, daisy-like flower, though I’m glad I got the bee in the shot without getting stung.

More lovely, sun-like flowers.

Since Colorado is technically in the American Southwest, it follows that the Gardens should be full of succulents.

These little flaming red flowers are duly protected by the sharp cacti engulfing them.

A cornucopia of succulents framed against a glass-and-steel conservatory.

These flowers caught my eye for their bleeding pink splotches.

I wouldn’t mind having this display on my little deck back home.

Admittedly a beautiful tableau, but frankly it also looks like the stuff of man-eating plant nightmares.

I’m always drawn to hydrangeas for their soothing violet/blue hues.

More potentially nightmare-inducing flora: I’m attracted to the ones that have bloomed but also a little weary of all those bulbous pods.

At least these violets are safe, protected by a rock perimeter that doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. I suspect they’ll remain if I ever make a return visit.

Three Colorado Cities

I visited Colorado primarily to see its mountains and parks, but also spent time in three of its cities. Above, the “Don’t Miss the Fun!” artwork caught my eye in a vintage map/framing shop in Boulder.

However, let’s go back to Fort Collins, where Steve and I spent the first half of the week. The fourth most populous city in the state, Fort Collins is a college town with a historic center that helped inspire Disney’s Main Street USA, but don’t let that deter you; it has its own considerable character and charm. Our first morning there, I enjoyed a cold brew at Bean Cycle–as you can see by the sign, it has two of my favorite things in the world.

Downtown Fort Collins has a lot of vintage architecture, like this art deco corner building that houses the Northern Hotel.

My cold brew amply washed down my Belgian-style Liège waffle (topped with maple bacon and raspberries) from this food truck.

College Avenue, the town’s main drag, has no shortage of neat, old signage.

I’ll take this over Supercuts, please (although something tells me I’d have to settle for a crewcut or a flattop).

God bless Julian’s for retaining this storefront well into the 21st century.

I’m guessing this is not the only vintage/resale shop in the world with this name (when I was a kid, my mother frequented one called “Play It Again”), but they get bonus points for their classy sign.

One night, we visited Social, a cool underground speakeasy-style bar with an extensive menu of old-time cocktails. Love the leather-upholstered bar back.

Near Social’s entrance: in case you can’t make out the framed sign, Prohibition is Dead (thank goodness).

One of College Street’s many cool neon signs. This hotel also has a retro underground bar, Ace Gillett’s Lounge, which we wanted to check out our last night in town. Instead, we ended up at Scrumpy’s; after one delicious chocolate cherry-flavored hard cider, I had no regrets.

Back to Boulder, where we spent a couple hours after a hike along the Chautauqua Trailhead. Here, Brigadier General Nathaniel Lyon watches over the town and the Flatirons in the distance.

Boulder County Courthouse, built in 1933. I wish more public buildings still looked like this.

Pearl Street Mall stretches along four blocks of Downtown Boulder, from 11th to 15th Streets. Dedicated in 1977, parts of it look a little dated, but it was still fairly vibrant for a Monday early evening.

I love this shot along Pearl Street despite the massive crane in the background.

One of Pearl Street’s more colorful and loud facades.

I had to look up exactly what “blind roasted coffee” is–turns out that the owner’s blind since birth, and his seeing-eye-dog inspired The Unseen Bean’s striking sign…

Not as striking a sign as this, however. I wonder how many people aren’t compelled to say the store’s name out loud when passing by.

My favorite Boulder building was undoubtedly this incredible art-deco theatre.

Built in 1906, it’s now primarily a concert hall that occasionally screens films. If I ever make it back to Boulder, I might schedule my trip around being able to attend an event here–the interior looks as neat as the exterior.

We spent the second half of our trip in Denver. Above is a spectacular still-living-and-breathing remnant of the past in the city’s otherwise ultra-modern Cherry Creek North shopping district.

We stayed in Downtown Denver and had some fantastic views from our seventh-floor hotel room. I believe this is the corner of 14th Street and Glenarm Place.

The glass-monolithic Crowne Plaza was across the street; I love the sunlit reflection on the building in back of it to the right.

We stayed a block away from the I.M. Pei-designed 16th Street Mall. While much of the Mall has that 70s/80s urban planning malaise feel to it, a few historical buildings remain like the tall, slender Daniels and Fisher Tower, which reminds me a little of this landmark in my hometown (Steve also thought of this beloved Boston skyscraper).

Following a heavy rain, the Mall and other streets of Downtown Denver positively, beautifully glowed on our last night in town.

At the corner of 16th and Glenarm: Marlowe’s neon martini welcomes you.

Not too far away at 15th and Champa: the Denver Gas and Electric Building, a stately yet whimsically decorated structure even Prince would love.

We say goodbye to Downtown Denver at Larimer Square–sort of a condensed version of Boston’s Newbury Street, packed with high end shops and restaurants. Still, the hanging net of little white lights adds a lot of character.

Rocky Mountain National Park

Steve and I spent a week in Colorado earlier this month as part of an ongoing effort to see more states west of the Mississippi River (I’m still in the early single digits, regrettably). First up: an afternoon at Rocky Mountain National Park, where I easily could’ve wandered around for three or four afternoons.

Seeking scenic views and possibly some wildflowers, we were directed to the Cub Lake Trail in Moraine Park.

Not far from the trailhead, a beautiful, bubbling brownish stream.

As you can see, we didn’t have to travel too far for a scenic view.

A swampy yet engulfed-by-green pond, with a cascade of pines in the background.

Although conifers dominate the mountain landscape, the occasional deciduous tree stands out.

I couldn’t get enough of those pines–even if, close-up, not all of them were as green as they seemed from a distance.

The Cub Lake trail runs about 2.5 miles from the trailhead to the lake; we made it approximately a little more than halfway there before we began to get a little bored at the static scenery. We decided to head back after asking a passing hiker carrying a camera with a seriously long lens if it was worth going any further (he told us it was not).

Still, some oddities surfaced amidst all the trees, like this gargantuan split rock.

Our view as we stopped for a little rest, water and granola bars.

Cornball that I am, my first thought at this view was honestly, “Huh, snow in June!”

I’ve seen mountains in person before, but nothing so immense, so vast.

You take a few steps further back, and additional multitudes are exposed.

This is the view, the one I remember most fondly and vividly. Along our hike we seemingly kept coming back to it, and it never got old or boring or diminished…

…even from further distances.

The mountains and the valley, hand in hand, stretching on for eternity, or at least across a canvas without visible borders.

Following our hike, we took a drive up Trail Ridge Road.

Still Trail Ridge Road, only at a significantly higher altitude.

Stopping at Rainbow Curve, we could see just how far we’d traveled.

This faintly reminds me of the mountains I saw in New Mexico on the high road to Taos, only grander and far more expansive.

Travel up Trail Ridge Road far enough, and you start seeing snow by the curbside.

We originally meant to go all the way up to what the map describes as the “highest point on road” (12,183 feet) between Lava Cliffs and Gore Range.

We didn’t make it that far–Steve began feeling a little queasy driving along the increasingly steep road less than a mile from Rainbow Curve, so we headed back.

Still, thanks to my trusty zoom lens, I was able to capture a few peaks.

We drove all the way back down to where the peaks are snow-free.

Stepping back a little, we find ourselves in Horseshoe Park, home to so many elks and other wildlife that one is not allowed to hike here and must stay in a vehicle except at designated lookouts.

A meadow against a sea of green trees in Horseshoe Park.

Make that almost piercingly green in some spots.

A few of the aforementioned elk, many of them lounging in the late afternoon air.

Serenity in the Rockies.

In Bloom

Every spring, after the snow melts (all 100 inches of it in 2015) and buds start appearing on the trees, I take out my camera (increasingly the one on my phone) and attempt to document the year’s bounty. Above: the Boston Public Gardens, early enough in the season for at least the weeping willows to show some color.

St. Mark’s park in Brookline, a few blocks outside Coolidge Corner: another early bloomer.

Along Dwight Street in Brookline, two hues more common in spring than any other season.

I’ve already written about my weekend in Philadelphia; right outside Old City, Independence Hall flanked by new life all around.

While in Philly, we drove down to Winterthur in Delaware (and I got to cross off another box on my list of states I’ve been in). Founded by a member of the illustrious du Pont family (not John E. du Pont), the estate holds a garden, museum, library and mansion just outside Wilmington. We spent all our time in the gardens, smack dab in the middle of daffodil season.

However, the daffodils were only a secondary attraction to the cherry blossoms.

I haven’t seen such lovely, robust cherry blossoms since a trip to Washington DC in 1989, roughly around the same time of year.

I think I need to convince Steve that this should be the photo for our Christmas card this year.

Looks good, but just imagine being there in person. The scents were sublime…

Back to Massachusetts and a Mother’s Day afternoon at Elm Brook Reservation in Wellesley.

Not too much was stirring in Elm Brook, apart from the occasional swath of vibrant colors.

Petite buds, practically popping against a forest background.

Over to Tower Hill Botanic Garden in Boylston, post-daffodils but just in time for other seasonal treasures.

I have a soft spot for tulips because we used to have a few on the side of our house growing up. Nothing beats those found at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden, but these weren’t half-bad.

Not sure what these flowers are, but I nearly fell over when I caught sight of such a striking contrast of the pink and orange against the green.

Spring is waning; even with its relative lack of transition, I’m ready for Summer.