Having a road trip means stopping occasionally when something interesting is seen. That also means turning around when the thing we saw was being passed quickly. During our trip to Cape Cod in Massachusetts, we passed by a windmill on U.S. Route 6 and I just had to see it closely. So we turned around and I wandered for a while. As I suspected, the windmill is a very old. In fact, it’s actually the oldest windmill on Cape Cod. It was built by Thomas Paine in 1680 in Plymouth. Plymouth was the first European Colony in America. The windmill then moved to Truro in 1770 by ferrying it on a log raft across Massachusetts Bay. It must have been quiet a task! The windmill then moved again on an ox cart to Eastham in 1793 and 1808 was set up on its recent location on the Village Green. The windmill worked to grind the grains into flour. The surrounding scene around the Green was typical of a New England small town, picturesque and calm. It was fortunate that the weather was amazing when we passed Eastham and I got to take several of the most wonderful images of the windmill. I wished we could stop by longer and had some picnic on the Green. It must’ve been wonderful!
The towns of Sandwich and Plymouth in Massachusetts are among the oldest towns in United States. They situated in the area in Massachusetts which is a cape in the southeastern part of the state called Cape Cod. Cape Cod is famous for its beaches and quaint New England style towns. Town of Sandwich is the oldest town on Cape Cod being settled in 1637. While Plymouth was the first permanent settlement of the European who came to the New World (America) and became the Plymouth Colony. I visited these two towns in summer and although I didn’t explore much, I managed to visit several places and snapped some wonderful and interesting scenes on my cellphone. The SNAPS FROM A ROAD TRIP is the newest theme I want to develop on this blog that consists the pictures I took with my cellphone camera. Please, enjoy!
FALL, the most invigorating season in New England. The season of gorgeous color combinations that can make anyone swoon and head over heel. The season of apple harvest, pumpkin galore, beautiful foliage and the crisp air. Fall in New England is extravagant and exuberant. I wouldn’t want to miss one fine day in the fall so to feel its beauty. I would wait for the blue sky and sunshine to go out and take my camera with me. But sometimes I didn’t get the chance to do that and rely mostly on my camera phone. Usually this happened when I was out and about in downtown or around Yale University campus. I pass by the campus many times at least once a week. I love going about there between the stone buildings and admire the season as it develops. I love the arrogancy of fall, of its splendor that entices my soul and makes me exclaim in delight, “Wow!”
“It was the way the autumn day looked into the high windows as it waned; the way the red light, breaking at the close from under a low sombre sky, reached out in a long shaft and played over old wainscots, old tapestry, old gold, old colour”.
– Henry James –
Dear old boyfriend,
I found your emotions typed neatly on a piece of yellowing paper.
I read the contents of your heart in the A-B-C’s of your unsophisticated language.
In those whirling-twirling, upside-down and lopsided world we called “our world”, I was yours and you were mine.
I listened to your relentless, unimaginative words upon words from your lips.
You whispered some nonsensical dreams that I didn’t mind at all. And I had heard them in the hundreds hours we shared. I have felt them through your fingers.
Then you came, and you have come, and you made me glad. You made me mad about you.
We spoke about life, though we must’ve sounded pathetic.
Did we have some memories then? Here and there, have you ever looked at them? Searched for them, deep in your mind?
Then, you remember. I, too, remember a part of us. The way we were.
I called you ‘my beloved’ and you let me. You let me.
I let you submerged in my ambiguity and I called it LOVE.
D. Yustisia 05/28/15
A couple of Saturdays ago, my husband took me and our children driving around a town called Southington. It is one of the oldest towns in Connecticut where a lot of its buildings were built in 1700’s. On the way while we were sightseeing, I saw a barn in the middle of nowhere. The snow was still covering the farmland where it stood and the barn just looked too good to miss to be photographed. But I didn’t bring my camera and I didn’t want to take pictures with my cellphone. So the next day, we came back again and I specifically asked my husband to go to see the barn. It was hard to find a parking spot beside the road, but eventually we found some space near the farm. I walked about 1/4 mile from where we parked and as soon as I got closer to the farm, I was intrigued by the scenery. It was just wonderful!
There were some old trees on the outer side of the farm close to the road. There were leafless and one tree in particular looked mythical, as if an old man with scraggly beard, its thin branches reaching out in uniform. The barn that I saw looked abandoned. The dark-red paint on it looked faded. The other buildings looked derelict too. The farm was empty and I felt sorry for it. One time this farm must be heaving with some cows, chickens, goats, pigs, and maybe several rows of vegetable plants or fruits. One time the farm was thriving with harvest in the spring and summer, and seeding in the fall. Now, it’s just the distant memories that left on empty chicken coops and a lonely barn in a vast land that was covered in snow. Despite the sadness that I felt looking at the barn and the farm, I was also delighted by the breathtaking winter scenery that was depicted there. It was such a humble moment to me.
By now, I should’ve had said that I dislike winter. Snow, more snow and some more to come. But even when on the three Mondays that we had snow storms, I enjoyed them nonetheless. There’s something magical about winter when I look at the snow when they fall. Quiet, almost in a hush, but as soon as I step outside the warmth of our home, I’ll feel it. The tiny prick on my cheeks, the small drop of wetness on my hair, the sudden cold on my skin. Living in New England means that our fall would be brimming with colors and our winter would be cold and white. Some days are harder than the rests. The temperature drops, the wind chills and unfortunately I have to go out. I have a choice to either complain about the weather or simply mum and absorb whatever is happening. On the days when there’s no school bus to pick up my kids, I took them to school by the city bus. After I dropped them off to school, I would later walk a round a bit braving the cold. So that I won’t feel depressed about this long winter. Then I took some pictures. I could hear my teeth were chattering and my body was shivering, but it’s just a stroll around the block. Well, not even. I could hear people exasperating about winter. They say winter is awful, but I see plethora of wonderful things about it. Soon, people will forget when the spring comes, about how awful this winter has been. Meanwhile, I’ll put on my gloves and winter hat for another stroll around the block.