OLD-FASHIONED ICE CREAM PARLOR, in Burlington NJ, near Delaware River

UMMM Ice Cream Burlington July 2017

NJWILDBEAUTY readers know I recently savored river towns, thanks to our brilliant light rail system from Bordentown (for me) to Camden.  This immaculate, zingy, Swiss-made train is reconnecting and resurrecting towns that died with the age of sail.

Coke of Yesteryear Ice Cream Parlor MMMM Burlington July 2017

Tickets are for a time period, not any particular destination – and mine (because of venerable age!) is 75 cents for two hours.  I guess non-venerables pay $1.50.  Heaven awaits.

CHOICES! Ice Cream Parlor MMMM Burlington

But also, the visceral experience of other eras.  I am convinced that Burlington’s brick sidewalks must have been made with bricks from the Abbott Marshlands, ages ago.  Signs of 1776 and 1656 abound.

Important Men Burlington July 2017

This ice cream parlor is in Burlington, (two blocks east and one south returned us to the train station, to buy and then validate a second set of tickets.)    It feels as though it were founded in the earliest part of the twentieth century, and has barely changed since.  Even I am not that venerable!

Eloquent Bricks Burlington

Back to the Ice Cream Parlor:

Get a Split Ice Cream Parlor Burlington July

 

FLAG Ice Cream Parlor MMMM Burlington July 2017

If Michelin had not invented “worthy of the journey”, I would have to do so for this idyllic sojourn.

On that hot summer’s day, all we needed to cool ourselves in the river towns, was to walk a block or two west to the river, or pop into this ice cream parlor.

O.K., the 21st-century waitress didn’t know how to make an ice cream soda.  But, beautiful and charming, she tore herself away from studying, to follow perfect instructions from my Princeton Photography Club (New York natives) companions.

Hit the rails — Think “River Line”!

 

 

 

 

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SEPTEMBER SONG — Autumnal Signs

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Autumn Mimics Christmas Along the D&R Canal

Is anyone else more impatient than usual for autumn crispness?  Do others feel as though that “season of mists and mellow fruitfulness” will never arrive?  Might you be “making a list and checking it twice” of early proofs that there really is such a thing as fall?

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Autumn’s golden gifts brighten a dreary canal

I have begun my own Autumnal Chronicle.  Despite assiduous attention, however, this tally is pretty meager.  It is particularly challenging this year to differentiate between the season for which I am longing and the effects of drought.  Sycamores are turning.  But, these puzzle-trunked beauties require ‘wet feet’, almost as urgently as willows.  No New Jersey trees are receiving sufficient moisture in dire 2016. Shocked by dessication, sycamores began dropping huge loud leaves in August.

I’m seeking first wild spurts of scarlet and crimson: Virginia creeper, otherwise known as woodbine; and its usual neighbor, poison ivy act as restaurant signs for migrating birds.  These vines employ the most vivid hue the minute they’re ripe enough to nourish.  In nearly mid-September, both species remain relentlessly forest green.

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Autumnal Carnegie Lake

My fall list begins with the very loud, entirely too audible, crunching of crisp leaves under my car wheels along Fackler Road in Lawrenceville.

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Spill of Crisp Leaves — Carnegie Lake Dock

I was forced to acknowledge autumn as I passed the Lawrenceville Community Garden.  Every towering sunflower is bent and spent, like people who neglect osteoporosis.

Driving past Loews to reach Trader Joe’s, there was the first inescapable bank of mums.

As I carried TJ purchases back to my  car, however, I thrilled to an endless river of dark birds, coursing and coursing as though they fleeing an impending storm.

I realize that none of these examples contains the ecstatic outpouring I would expect from myself as the season turns.  And that NJWILDBEAUTY readers have come to expect from me.

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Sweet Gum Leaves in Autumn Finery

This year, the coming season is marred by the very serious illness of my 20[year-old great nephew, James Weitzel.  His heroism is striking.  But this shining young man; this consummate, initially intuitive musician (percussion especially); this person who’s touched the heart of everyone with whom he interacts in Springfield, Illinois, has been abruptly stricken in his prime.  Now James has a bald head, and not because it’s chic.  Now James has to relearn the very simple process of walking.  So my own heart and feet are not skipping.

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Delaware River Footbridge from Black Bass Inn in Autumn

Autumn meant new beginnings, for this foolish one who couldn’t wait for school.  I lived for first lavender smoke rising from chimneys, and especially from towering bonfires of leaves we’d raked all day..  And harvests were the heart of the matter.

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Trenton Farmers’ Market Bounty

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Today, I’ve tried to fill a treasure chest of autumn memories.  Maybe it will lift NJWILDBEAUTY spirits, as well as my own.  Maybe you’ll even comment on favorite aspects of this laggard season for you.

 

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Trenton Farmers’ Market Apple Crop

Parties meant bobbing for apples and sipping new cider. Popcorn turning white and sometimes a little black in the long-handled black corn popper over coals in our family room fireplace.  New loves began at pep rallies and the subsequent Homecoming Ball.  Happiness swirled in on every fresh breeze.

Maybe, seeing these NJ fall views, you’ll get out on (preserved, of course) trails, and create new memories.

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D&R Greenway’s Cedar Ridge Preserve — Terrestrial Box Turtle Among the Leaves

Maybe it’s color for which I am longing.

Or is it that September and October represent constellations of change?

“I MUST GO DOWN TO THE SEA AGAIN…” — CHATHAM, MASS. SURPASSES EXPECTATIONS

Tall Ship, (sort-of), Mac Millan Wharf, Provincetown

Tall Ship, (sort-of), Mac Millan Wharf, Provincetown

This line from John Masefield has always been resonant to me, since long before this Michigander ever encountered an ocean.  It continues, “…the lonely sea, and the sky…   and all I ask is a tall ship…  and a star to steer her by”

Walking the Plank, Brewster Marsh, Wing Trail at Low Tide

Walking the Plank, Brewster Marsh, Wing Trail at Low Tide

I’m just back from a place of seas, bays, sounds, creeks where ‘herrings’ (alewives) ‘run’ (swim in forceful schools) in the spring, limitless marshlands crossed on planks.  Yes, I even encountered a tall ship or two, matters piratical, and wild Provincetown and other Cape interpretations of Hallowe’en, as you know from the previous post.

"Down to the Sea", Harbormaster's Life Preserver and Antique Salvaged Anchor, Provincetown Wharf

“Down to the Sea”, Harbormaster’s Life Preserver and Antique Salvaged Anchor, Provincetown Wharf

Those among my NJWILDBEAUTY readers who know me personally, know that my major haven, when I had a family, was Chatham, Massachusetts.  West Chatham, Harding’s Beach, to be exact.  A tiny grey-shingled single-floored house on Nantucket Sound, from which I could walk the beach from morning til night, down to Stage Harbor Light.  Sometimes, we’d even do it by moonlight.  Once, the girls and I even swam it, just to see if we could.  We could.

From Harding's Beach to Stage Harbor Light, Chatham, Mass.

From Harding’s Beach to Stage Harbor Light, Chatham, Mass.

Some of you also know that I lost both my beloved, beautiful, and yes, brilliant (they always want the best and the brightest) daughters to an aggressive cult during the 1980’s.  Brainwashing appears to be permanent.

Cults are worse than any Hallowe’en drama — turning all treats for the remainder of life to tricks and/or tragedy.

But beautiful places, strong fellowship, and determined creating of new memories can serve as antidote.

'Our' Home for Seven Weeks Each Late Summer in the 1970's and 80's, but tripled in size now...

‘Our’ Home for Seven Weeks Each Late Summer in the 1970’s and 80’s, but tripled in size now…

I know because I braved Chatham return with two of The Intrepids last week.

'Our' Road, Heading toward South Chatham and Harwich, unchanged...

‘Our’ Road, Heading toward South Chatham and Harwich, unchanged…

That idyllic place was everything I needed, and THEN some.

First View, Evening Arrival, Taylor Pond,Cottage, South Chatham

First View, Evening Arrival, Taylor Pond Cottage, South Chatham

First Sunset, Taylor Pond Cottage, South Chatham

First Sunset, Taylor Pond Cottage, South Chatham

You’ll be traveling Chatham and Brewster and Provincetown shores and streets with me in the weeks of this difficult month of the girls’ birthdays.

Fellowship is EVERYTHING!

Carolyn Yoder beachcombing at Hardint's Beach at High Tide

Carolyn Yoder beachcombing at Hardint’s Beach at High Tide

Jeanette Hooban following brant flock at Brewster Beach of Paine's Lane, at High Tide

Jeanette Hooban following brant flock at Brewster Beach of Paine’s Lane, at High Tide

It’s funny — seems like it was always high tide when we arrived at destinations.  True friends can re-think, rearrange, re-plan, and relish every nuance, no matter where, because we’re together.

Ur-Lobster Roll, Quintessential Cole Slaw, The Lobster Pot, Provincetown

Ur-Lobster Roll, Quintessential Cole Slaw, The Lobster Pot, Provincetown

Lobster Pot Restaurant Provincetown Lunch at Lobster Pot

Haven at Land’s End

Lobster, Avocado and Mango with Sauteed Baguette, The Lobster Pot, Provincetown

Lobster, Avocado and Mango with Sauteed Baguette, The Lobster Pot, Provincetown

You could call our meals “Early Thanksgivings” — especially the Wellfleet Oysters!

Rainy-Day Haven, Chatham

Rainy-Day Haven, Chatham

Impudent Oyster Dining Room Early for Lunch

Early for Lunch

Memorable Oysters, Impudent Oyster, Chatham Bars Ave., Chatham

Memorable Oysters, Impudent Oyster, Chatham Bars Ave., Chatham

The above was a meal as predicted drizzle began to sift from oyster skies, after a morning of seeing seals beyond counting upon ‘Chatham bars’, — a major sandbar below the main Chatham lighthouse.

Chatham Light, Storm Appropriately Brewing

Chatham Light, Storm Appropriately Brewing

I hope some of the scintillation of my Cape Cod return flashes all around you as you view upcoming mages and read scant words.

Last Fire, Taylor Pond Cottage, South Chatham

Last Fire, Taylor Pond Cottage, South Chatham

I hope that having gone “down to the sea again” with us reminds NJWILDBEAUTY readers of their own major reasons to be thankful that such luminous places persist in our 21st Century.

There may be no more important concept in our time than PRESERVATION.