Because I had a particularly painful mammogram this afternoon, ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
spatch drove me afterward to Belle Isle Seafood for a restorative plate of smelts and a ginger beer mocktail with an open-air panorama of the harbor under an afterimage-blue sky of thick-stacked summer clouds. The water glass-sparkled dragon-green. Looking southwest across it seemed to collage the runways of Logan into the cranes of Conley Terminal, as if the planes taxied in to be unloaded like container ships. The gulls were out in full force, pattering a silhouette of webbed feet across the greenhouse vanes of the awning, screaming in triumph over an abandoned leftover of fries. Pigeons and sparrows were milling around the oyster-shell gravel under the tables, interwoven with the dart and skirt of a black-headed gull. A juvenile on the floating dock was trying to crack a mussel by dropping it with a hopeful singlestick thwack. I must have seen earlier, but had not remembered noticing the kinetic sculpture made out of anemometers just before the turn for Route 145. Threading the crowd of Revere Beach on the way home, we heard a man drumming on one of the pavilion's park benches. Unfortunately it was around Route 60 that I hurt too much to keep cloud-watching and as soon as we got home I fell asleep on the couch. I woke and saw the much less pleasing news of Dolly Parton. Her memory for so many kinds of blessing, as her life was.
spatch drove me afterward to Belle Isle Seafood for a restorative plate of smelts and a ginger beer mocktail with an open-air panorama of the harbor under an afterimage-blue sky of thick-stacked summer clouds. The water glass-sparkled dragon-green. Looking southwest across it seemed to collage the runways of Logan into the cranes of Conley Terminal, as if the planes taxied in to be unloaded like container ships. The gulls were out in full force, pattering a silhouette of webbed feet across the greenhouse vanes of the awning, screaming in triumph over an abandoned leftover of fries. Pigeons and sparrows were milling around the oyster-shell gravel under the tables, interwoven with the dart and skirt of a black-headed gull. A juvenile on the floating dock was trying to crack a mussel by dropping it with a hopeful singlestick thwack. I must have seen earlier, but had not remembered noticing the kinetic sculpture made out of anemometers just before the turn for Route 145. Threading the crowd of Revere Beach on the way home, we heard a man drumming on one of the pavilion's park benches. Unfortunately it was around Route 60 that I hurt too much to keep cloud-watching and as soon as we got home I fell asleep on the couch. I woke and saw the much less pleasing news of Dolly Parton. Her memory for so many kinds of blessing, as her life was.
