So we raised our anchor, shook out sail

[sovay]

And yesterday was simply a beautiful day. Having determined that we badly needed to do something with the sea before the weather reverted from mock-June to mock-November, fleurdelis28 and her sister and I spent the afternoon in Rockport, climbing around Halibut Point State Park—a surrealist's beachful of huge red granite boulders, jostled and tumbled every which way like alphabet blocks, and the abandoned, flooded quarry many of them came from—and exploring old cemeteries. Nobody had a camera, of course, but the tide was coming in streaked-glass green and by the late afternoon there was a mackerel sky in white and blue overhead. We talked about the Titanic. We found a lot of wrecked lobster traps. I am almost positive the four birds we saw bobbing around the rocks were harlequin ducks. And I came home and almost immediately went out again for John Ford's How Green Was My Valley (1941) at the Harvard Film Archive, which I think marks the end of the series. Today I will almost certainly get rained on, but I prefer walking places to not.

Comments

[asakiyume.livejournal.com]

It sounds like a perfect day



et si tu veux, pour toi.

[sovay]

et si tu veux, pour toi.

Merci!

[cucumberseed.livejournal.com]

That does sound like a lovely day.

[sovay]

That does sound like a lovely day.

It was exactly the sort of place I had never been and really needed to be.

[ap-aelfwine.livejournal.com]

Glad you had such a lovely day.

Hope you only get rained upon in a pleasant fashion. I'm looking outside and thinking I should've rewaxed my jacket sooner--I waxed it a tenday ago, but that was the night before the day I spent in NYC during the great déluge. Oh well.

I'm with you on the subject of walking--I wish I lived in a town where I could actually get places by walking, rather than having to drive on all errands.

[sovay]

Hope you only get rained upon in a pleasant fashion.

My mother's umbrella performed its proper apotropaic function: I carried it outside and within fifteen minutes the rain had stopped, although of course it remained raw and damp and gusty. I returned from the library with several books of Kipling and Derek Walcott.

[ap-aelfwine.livejournal.com]

My mother's umbrella performed its proper apotropaic function: I carried it outside and within fifteen minutes the rain had stopped, although of course it remained raw and damp and gusty.

Excellent. I'm always delighted when an umbrella serves its proper function. (Rewaxing my jacket does seem to have kept the rain away from here for a couple of days, at least.)

I returned from the library with several books of Kipling and Derek Walcott.

Excellent. I just had to look up Walcott*--he sounds interesting, and I'll have to check out his work further.

*At first I thought you'd written "Derek Warfield," and I was about to say that one of my friends has been playing with him a lot, lately, but then I realised that you were speaking of someone else.

[papersky.livejournal.com]

That's my valley, by the way.

[sovay]

That's my valley, by the way.

That's neat. Is it also then the setting of Among Others?

[papersky.livejournal.com]

Yes. Well, that part of it anyway.

There must be more books set there, but I honestly can't think of any.

The film was partly filmed in a school my grandmother taught in, incidentally.

[clarionj.livejournal.com]

Sounds like a beautiful day--red granite boulders, a mackerel sky. Thanks for painting it for us a bit.

I watched the movie Camille last weekend, and I'm thinking that I had that one on my list as something you'd written about. Do you remember if you ever reviewed it on LJ? If so, I wanted to go back and read what you'd written now that I've seen the movie. I'm not asking you to scroll back to find it, just if you know in your memory. I can then search. I'm just not remembering who recommended it!