The Volunteer Model

 

“Take my picture man! Art is everything”

large-1010718.jpg

He had a good point. So I did.

large-1010719.jpg

 

 

 

 

Frog Pond At Its Best

large-02744.jpg

One of true joys of living where we do is our proximity to Boston’s legendary Frog Pond. In the beginning of the city’s history it was exactly that. A little pond where cattle that grazed on Boston Common could drink. Now it’s used as a wading pool in the summer and a skating rink in the winter. It’s a huge community asset.

Last evening I took a short walk there just before dinner. It was a scene right out of a Currier and Ives print.

Enjoy

Descending Streetlight Trail

large-00428.jpg

As one walks across the middle of Boston Common towards the Garden, a lovely row of streetlights marks the path down the hill towards Back Bay. A quiet diagonal leading to the cacophony of approaching buildings.

Duck and Friend

large-.jpg

They’re a strange couple I admit but, these days everything is that way,

The Butterfly on Boylston Street

large-3822.jpg

I’m really happy with this photograph; not for the subject matter, although it certainly is nice. No, I’m happy with it because of where I took it. It was on the second block of Boylston Street in Boston in an area of high end shops and a ton of foot traffic. This little butterfly was sipping nectar from a flower less than a yard off the busy sidewalk. It just goes to show you that if you stand still long enough and pay very close attention to your immediate surrounds, mother nature will occasionally reward you with a lovely gift.

By the way while we’re on the subject of mother nature and her gifts, there are now turkeys grazing on Boston Common. How they got there we’ll never know. But what fun it was to see them.

Memorial Day Thoughts

large-3152.jpg

large-3139.jpg

large-3153.jpg

Not much needs to be said about these photographs. This is an annual event in Boston Common and it’s very moving. The thing I noticed about these people setting out the commemorative flags was that they were very subdued almost silent.  It was fitting for the occasion.

 

 

His Name Is Billy

large-0370161.jpg

He and I are friends. (kind of)

I see him a lot sitting by himself on various park benches in Boston Common. Billy is very hard to understand. My guess is he’s got a wet brain from too much booze.

He won’t take any money.

Today I told him my name was John and I think he understood that.

His eyes filled with tears.

%d bloggers like this: