Tag: Beacon Hill

LINING THEM UP – FENWAY AND BEACON HILL – Marilyn Armstrong

Photo Challenge: The Line-Up

I’ve always loved the way entryways to brownstones line up in old parts of the city. These pictures were taken on Beacon Hill, so these are very classy and tidy brownstones. Some of them pay more for parking spaces that Garry and I ever earned in a year of full-time work.

Beacon Hill

 

This one shows the pennants all lined up on Fenway Park in Boston. There are two more not in the picture: 2013 and 2018.

Pennants on Fenway Park

JUNE IS SQUARE – ROOF 2 – Marilyn Armstrong

It’s that time of year again and squares are back! 

This is a roof in a lovely brick mansion on Beacon Hill. It amazes me how beautifully maintained these old houses are … but then I remember how incredibly wealthy the people who own them are.

Beacon Hill – May 2015

Well, the theme is ROOFS (or rooves if you prefer!). Your roof can be;

A – any type, any condition, any size, and in any location.
B – it could be a shot across rooftops, of one roof like today or even a macro
C – you might prefer to spend some time under the eaves and in the attic, or enjoy the view from above as Brian has already done today.

I was going to do another tunnel, but I got pixelated by the rooves on Beacon Hill. See you tomorrow!

THE 7-DAY BLACK & WHITE CHALLENGE – DAY 5

Here’s the challenge:

Black and White Photography Challenge: Seven days. Seven black and white photos of your life. No people. No explanation. Challenge someone new each day.

Since I’m an old time player at this game, I’m letting people in as long as it’s not a portrait and not the primary part of the image.

I invite you to consider giving this challenge a try, even if you’ve done it already. An extra push to do better photography is good for your art. Moreover, finding a black & white picture that somehow represents “you” in a visual way poses an interesting challenge — an artistic double-whammy, so to speak. At least one of the pictures I used in the first round of these challenges turned out to be one of my most popular-ever posts.

Who’d have thunk it.

This challenge comes from Luccia Gray at “REREADING JANE EYRE.”

Back to Beacon Hill

ON BOSTON STREETS – BEACON HILL AND FENWAY PARK

I’ve been continuing to experiment with processing. Not so much with Photoshop which has now become more or less the “legs” of my process, but with Topaz Studio. Last year, when it first emerged, it was hailed as a stand-alone program.

Medium rise – Beacon Hill

It wasn’t, at least not at that point. Since then, however, it has come a very long way. Not only does it incorporate all of my Topaz filters — a lot of them over a period of four years — but I can use it from inside Photoshop or as a stand-alone graphic processor.

Corner of Beacon Hill

It still lacks some of the simple things I need to use it all the time: a simple way to crop and level a photograph would be on the top. And a much less complicated way to save a processed photograph would be a huge help. Finally, some kind of sorting mechanism — like Photoshop’s Bridge — so you can find the pictures you want to use.

Gate D – Fenway Park

I use Photoshop for leveling, cropping, saving and sorting, but when Topaz Studio finally come of age, I will be glad to work with it. In the meantime, if you have the opportunity, check it out. If you already own Topaz filters, it might be free — I’m not sure anymore what the price structure is. Regardless, there’s a 30-day free trial. It might offer exactly what you’ve been looking for.

Topaz filters and studio work with other graphics program including Adobe’s Lightroom and Corel.

ANGLES ON BEACON HILL

CEE’S FUN FOTO CHALLENGE: ARCHITECTURE

When all is said and done, there’s no better place to shoot architecture than Boston … and no place in Boston more interesting than Beacon Hill.

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Beacon Hill is the “original” Boston. From here, Paul Revere began his famed ride. Most of the rest of Boston was part of one or another gigantic land fill project, including all of Back Bay and Dorchester.

Only Beacon Hill was dry land in the early 18th century (1700s) when Boston was a young city full of firebrand revolutionaries.

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The buildings on the hill are in amazing condition and look new, but don’t be fooled. Ongoing preservation work has kept them in marvelous condition … and of course … a lot of money lives on this hill. All these building are between two and three hundred years old. Some, even older.

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cee's fun foto chall

CEE’S WHICH WAY PHOTO CHALLENGE – TRAVELING ON

CEE’S WHICH WAY CHALLENGE: 2015 WEEK #20

This week, it’s Boston. You’d think being on the road would be the best time for posting these pictures, but it usually means I don’t have time to process most of them.

Brookline

I did get a few put together for you. Hope you enjoy them. Beacon Hill and Back Bay, mostly, and a hint of Fenway.

A BIT OF BEACON HILL

We went photographing in Boston yesterday. It turned out to be as close to perfect a day as you could ask for. Quite warm, but not humid. Brilliantly sunny, a classic late spring day with everything in full bloom.

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Our first stop was Beacon Hill. Garry and I lived on Beacon Hill for a year right after we were married. It was our first place together. A cute, tiny apartment. Emphasis on tiny.

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It had a working fireplace which, if lit, would make the flat hot enough to smelt ore. It had a back garden patio. It seemed like a wonderful idea, but turned out to have a resident raccoon who did not wish to share his space. I didn’t feel inclined to argue the point.

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Beacon Hill was a fascinating place to be, but living in that apartment was not fun. In addition to all its other problems, it was heavily infested by cockroaches with attitude. It was much too small for us. It might have been too small for anyone. Moving out of there was an incredible relief.

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I’ve continued to hold Beacon Hill in great affection. It’s the original Boston, the oldest part of the city, the place from which (in legend) Paul Revere began his ride. Although the first battles of the American Revolution were fought in Lexington and Concord, the war’s true birthplace was Beacon Hill.

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We still know our way around which was interesting. We haven’t been back in at least 10 years, maybe longer.

Today it was crawling with tourists. I heard German, Russian, Hebrew, and Italian being spoken by various groups with guides. Virtually no English. The only natives were walking dogs.

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We took a great many pictures today. I haven’t processed even half of them. To give you an idea of what I mean, we burned through three batteries. It’s going to take a while.

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I hope you enjoy this bright day in the middle of May on Boston’s historic Beacon Hill.

DANGEROUS BLACK TRASH BAGS

When Garry and I were first married and before we owned a home, we rented a tiny, adorable, over-priced apartment on Beacon Hill. Since it was on the ground floor, privacy decreed window coverings. I bought curtains and drapes for all the windows. The building dated back to the early 1800s. The ceilings were high, the windows tall.

The windows were the best feature of the apartment along with a fireplace in the living room and a beautiful marble bathroom. I could have lived without the other residents of the flat. Cockroaches. Who had apparently been there since Paul Revere made his ride. Big ones, the kind one addresses as “sir.” Regardless of sex.

Parking is a real issue on Beacon Hill. So is trash.
Parking is a real issue on Beacon Hill. So is trash. We lived up the street on the left, ground floor.

I put all the new curtains in a black trash bag and warned Garry — or thought I warned Garry — “This,” I said “is NOT trash. It’s our new drapes.” That’s what I thought I said. Regardless, it wasn’t what Garry heard.  We had just moved in and there was a lot of trash waiting for disposal, all in black trash bags. I’m sure you know the punchline.

By the time I realized the drapes had been taken to the curb, the scavengers of Beacon Hill had snagged them. Everybody on Beacon Hill, rich and poor alike, scavenges. While we were still moving in, people kept coming by trying to take our stuff. I’m not talking about poor homeless people. I mean The Neighbors. Several times I had to remove lamps and other items of furniture from their clenched fists.

The drapes were gone in a nanosecond. Still in their original wrappers, price tags attached. Whoever took them had to know they were not trash. In Roxbury, where we later lived — a poor, mostly black neighborhood — I’m sure they would have returned the drapes. They would have gone door to door until they found the right house. But Beacon Hillers have a different way of looking at things that reminds me of an old childhood chant “Finders keepers, losers weepers.”

I had to buy new drapes and the second set wasn’t as nice — or expensive — as the first. I’d used the money and couldn’t spend it twice.

Over the years, my penchant for storing stuff in black trash bags has cost us dearly. Christmas presents, out of season clothing, household items intended for the attic — have all vanished. Who done it? Me? Garry? One of the kids? It could be anyone. I’m inclined to blame the terriers. They are always sneaking around, up to no good.

As a family, we have a knee-jerk response to black trash bags. We throw them out. It could have been anyone. (I still suspect Bonnie, the Scottie.)

As the weather turned chilly, I decided to put our down comforter on the bed. It should have been easy enough to find, stored as it was in a big black trash bag. Except it had vanished. This is not an item one can easily overlook. A king-sized down comforter is big. Fluffy. It had considerable bulk, if not heft. This is not like looking for a piece of missing paper. This should have been easy to spot. And it should have been in the bedroom — but wasn’t.

I checked the closets and the attic. Nothing. No black trash bags. None at all.

When finally the dust settled (I really liked that comforter) and I had ordered a replacement from Kohl’s, I apologized to Garry for accusing him of perfidiously disposing of our bedding.

“I have to stop storing things in black trash bags. This isn’t working out,” I said. Garry readily agreed. I’m pretty sure he’s still pissed off at me. I can hardly blame him.

Do they make big bags like that in clear plastic? Just wondering.

BEWARE THE TREACHEROUS BLACK TRASH BAG

Long ago, when Garry and I were first married, before we owned a home, we rented a tiny, adorable and over-priced apartment on Beacon Hill. I had bought curtains and drapes — nice ones — for all the windows in the apartment. It was a building dating back to the early 1800s. The ceilings were high, the windows tall. That was the best part of the apartment … that and the fireplace in the living room and what was probably the nicest marble bathroom we’ve ever had. I could have lived without the other residents of the flat — the cockroaches who had apparently been there since Paul Revere made his ride. Quaintness comes at a price.

Parking is a real issue on Beacon Hill. So is trash.
Parking is a real issue on Beacon Hill. So is trash. We lived up the street on the left, ground floor.

I put all the new curtains in a black trash bag and warned Garry — or thought I warned Garry — this wasn’t trash. It was our new drapes. I either hadn’t actually warned him or he hadn’t heard me. We had just moved in and there was a lot of trash to go out, all in black trash bags. I’m sure you already know the punchline.

By the time I realized the drapes had been taken to the curb, the scavengers of Beacon Hill had snagged them. Everybody on Beacon Hill, rich and poor alike, scavenges. While we were still in the process of moving in, people kept coming by trying to take our stuff. I’m not talking about poor homeless people. I mean The Neighbors. Several times I had to remove lamps and other items of furniture from their clenched fists.

So, to no one’s surprise, the drapes were out there a nanosecond and then gone. Since they were all still in their original unopened wrappings with the price tags attached, whoever took them had to know they were not trash. In Roxbury, where we later lived — a poor, mostly black neighborhood — I’m sure they would have returned the drapes. They would have gone door to door until they found the right house. But that was Roxbury. Beacon Hillers have a different way of looking at things that reminds me of an old childhood chant “Finders keepers, losers weepers.” Just saying.

I had to buy new drapes and the second set wasn’t as nice — or expensive — as the first. I’d used up the money and couldn’t spend it twice.

We lived on Grove Street. This looks a lot like it.
We lived on Grove Street. This looks a lot like it.

Over the years, my penchant for storing stuff in black trash bags has cost us dearly. Christmas presents, out of season clothing, household items intended for the attic — have all vanished. Who done it? Me? Garry? One of the kids? It could be anyone. I’m inclined to blame the terriers. They are always sneaking around, up to no good.

As a family, we have a knee-jerk reflexive response to black trash bags. We throw them out. It could have been anyone. (I still suspect Bonnie, the Scottie.)

Last night, I realized that our down comforter (yes, stored in a black trash bag), had vanished. This is not an item that you can easily overlook. A queen-sized down comforter is big and fluffy, even in a trash bag. It had considerable size, if not heft. This is not like looking for a piece of missing paper. This was something that would be easy to spot. It should have been in the bedroom — but wasn’t.

I checked the closets and the attic. Nothing. No black trash bags.

When finally the dust settled (I really liked that comforter) and I had ordered a replacement from Kohl’s, hopefully to be delivered before the cold weather closes in, I apologized to Garry for accusing him of perfidiously disposing of our bedding and said: “I have to stop storing things in black trash bags. This isn’t working out.”

He enthusiastically agreed.

Do they make big bags like that in clear plastic? Just wondering.

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