One day, Owen met a guy who turned out to be a conductor on a train that runs through Worcester. It’s a very old narrow-gauge train and its maximum speed is 5 mph.
“Take pictures!” I told him. He had never taken pictures except for a few snapshots, so I wasn’t expecting much. And he still rarely takes pictures, but he could. The pictures are great.
The conductor climbs up the engine into the engine
Heading into the woods
Leaving the yard
This is our train. There are two of them and our Department of Transportation runs these trains three or four times a week to keep them functional. This is the train created to run through places where no other traffic could go.
Train in the yard
Through a meadow, passing the long stone fence
Heading into a curve as the rain begins to fall
There are no roads nor will there be. The train travels through woods, swamps, and meadows. It slowly passes long-defunct mills and factories, past sludgy canals and dark swamps. Not only is this a look at an old train, but it’s also a look at parts of the Blackstone Valley no one sees because it is inaccessible.
About to pass
Looking out the window into the rain
Pulling back into the yard
Welcome to the Blackstone Valley. Have a look at our history as the home of America’s industrial revolution. This is where all manufacturing industries began in the U.S. and why we are a historical corridor.
Since Becky already named this, I thought it was a good time to use a photo I have always loved, but definitely needed a redo. This was taken under the streetlights on the sidewalk next to Boston Symphony Hall. It was December and we were there for the Christmas Concert.
The shadows and grain of the photograph made me immediately think of film noir and its dark shadowed moods. If you use your imagination, you can imagine stories about this one.
In the shadows under the streetlight in the heart of Boston
This time of year, I have a shortlist of things of which I take pictures.
- Heaps of snow.
- And occasionally, people.
That’s it. We don’t go to the falls or parks. We do very little traveling because there are crazy drivers out there and all the little parks and falls are blocked by snow. You can’t get there from here.
On the other hand, bird and squirrel watching is at its peak. Everything is hungry and we are the open banquet. I try not to think about how much it costs to buy all that birdseed. Yikes!
Two pink blossoms on the Christmas Cactus
Two hungry birds
A bit of red remaining on the Cardinal
Two chubby Doves
Two TV persons. Guess which one is the weather guy?
I’ve been around with the camera lately and I got some numbers while I was at it. Since all the pictures are mine, I guess the post is also mine.
The church is the first Quaker Meetinghouse in this country. It’s in pretty good shape, though it’s hard to photograph because of its position on the corner atop a hill.
1770 Quaker Meetinghouse
The corner of route 146A
But the sign is green!
Fire Chief numbers
I’ve been thinking a lot about hallways and corridors recently since I’ve been wondering if I should start saving up for some version of a motorized wheelchair.
Medicare will give you one only if you are going to use it IN the house, not outside, but I don’t need one in the house. I need one outside, in the mall (for those rare times I go to one) … and moreover, I need one that could travel “off-road” on grass and gravel surfaces because that’s where I take pictures. If it only travels on smooth surfaces, it won’t get me anywhere I need to go.
It’s actually two hallways — up (with stairlift) and down (stairs only) — and only 39 inches wide!
All the books and DVDs make the hall rather narrow
If the thing will only run on flat, smooth floors, what would I do with it? We don’t live in a flat, smooth-surfaced world and the hallways in this house are far too narrow to navigate in any kind of chair. They are often difficult to navigate on foot and we are used to turning sideways when we are carrying packages — even small packages.
Almost too narrow to get the groceries up — the stairlift gets in the way!
Between Garry, me, and the pups, we knock a lot of stuff off shelves and tabletops. It makes one think seriously about what do you do when you can’t walk, but you can’t get up and down the stairs with a wheelchair either. Does that mean you have to move to “one of those homes”? Shiver.
NOTE: Garry says we should hook up the dogs and make them work for a living. I pointed out we’d need more dogs. More dogs? MORE dogs?
We have a new sign. Well, not new. It’s almost 20 years old, but it has been down for a couple of years after being knocked over by a snowplow. Owen propped it back up this year, so we have our new (old) sign back again.
I took a few pictures.
Home again home again
Forget not the dogs!
I’m not always sure where black and white — also known as monochrome — ends and color begins. There are a lot of choices now that bring back some part of the original color, but not all the color or its intensity.
Four of these pictures are classic monochrome. The final one is “transparent,” tonality which uses part of the original colors but unsaturated.
Not sepia exactly. Peaches in a color closer to chocolate
The bridge over the canal in traditional black & white
Garry in classic black & white
Detailed sepia — the bench on the lawn by the river at River Bend
Transparent monochrome: Flowers along the edge of the river