Breaking Bread on The Porch

There's that bewitching river view again, as seen from Sadie's porch one evening. I could spend hours on that porch. Come to think of it, I did. It was the perfect place to read a book, sip coffee, watch the ships & pleasure boats go by, and have conversations with my fellow vacationers. I hope you like the view, too, because there are more pictures to follow in later posts. One of the places we visited was an excellent antique boat museum, and I'll show you pictures from our tour of La Duchesse, a luxurious houseboat from 1903.

The St. Lawrence River separates the state of New York from the province of Ontario, Canada. In the photograph above, the distant shoreline is not Canada, but Wellesley Island. This 50-mile stretch of the river is called the Thousand Islands region, but there are actually close to 1800 islands, ranging in size from barely large enough to support a single tree to Wolfe Island (48 square miles). Wellesley Island is the second largest of the Thousand Islands, with three state parks and several residential communities.

One evening we drove over to Wellesley Island for dinner at an old resort hotel.

We had a leisurely meal on the spacious wraparound porch of the Wellesley Hotel, circa 1903. The hotel is across from a playground in the beguiling community of Thousand Islands Park. In the picture above, we have Sheldon, Sadie, and Robespierre being watched by two creepy antique dolls; they stared at every bite I took. The Wellesley Hotel has an indoor dining room, but the place to eat and be seen is on "the porch." You get a better look at the place below.

Thousand Island Park had a vaguely surreal feel, at least to me. It was mannered & manicured, impeccably clean, orderly and achingly charming. There was an old-fashioned ice cream parlor across from the front of the hotel, while from my chair on the side porch I watched two boys, one black & one white, play tether ball in the playground beside the village green. The green sloped down to a large pavilion on the riverbank. People strolled down the sidewalks, or drove past sedately in cars or golf carts. It was pleasant, so pleasant...


"Won't you have more bread, sir?"

Oh, yes, but I will, though I shouldn't; because this bread is so good; it's everything I have ever wanted, all any of us have always wanted. Everyone on the porch, all the diners at each table, tear their bread and lift it to their mouths and, nodding, slowly chew.

"More bread, sir, and butter. You must have more. We make it right here. And the butter comes from our own cows, and the only thing the cows eat is our bread from our very own ovens. Here is more bread for you. There is always more bread."

This waiter is so beautiful; he is a portrait of salubrity. His hair is the color of butter. The flawless skin of his arm is tanned but seems bloodless, like the golden crust of this delicious bread.

"Eat as much bread as you like. All of us here in the village eat it every day. In fact, it is the only thing we eat."

"Yes, more bread," my companions murmur, reaching, "More bread, please."

"Yes, more bread," the nodding waiter assures them, "There is always more bread. And do not forget the butter. The butter is for the bread. Be sure to butter your bread. Stay. We will make more bread forever."

His eyes are so...blue. How can they be so pale and blue? They are like a vast morning sky, and I can see something there, something small and faraway and terrible soaring in his eyes as he holds a bite of crust to my lips.

I hold my lips stiff, and tug my eyes away; like a piece of cheap paper ripping from top to bottom, my vision comes in a jagged race of other diners, children in the playground, a bicyclist, all slowly chewing mouthfuls of bread; my eyes slide to a rest on the dolls in the window. The taller one blinks at me. The other doll leans against her, staring at me, as a thick trickle of saliva runs from her mouth to her rotting linen collar.

A car horn toots, and a dog dashes across the street to the park. There seems to be a suction and my ears feel as though they've popped. The dolls pose in the window just as they have been since we were seated, with one staring into a tree and the other at the porch ceiling.

"More bread, sir?" the waiter inquires, blandly.

"Good heavens, no. What's for dessert?"

The village of Thousand Island Park is undeniably beautiful. It is pristine and serene, and slightly other-worldly compared to most resort towns. Founded as a Methodist religious resort in 1875, during the Third Great Awakening, today it is a private seasonal enclave with an astounding number of Carpenter Gothic and Victorian homes. With 1760 acres and 294 buildings, I could have spent an entire day here taking photographs. By the time we finished dinner, the lighting was not favorable, so I only have a few to share with you.

Row upon row of houses emphasize vernacular architecture with wide verandas, elaborate decorative woodwork, and upper sleeping porches. The village continues to be a thriving resort community; and, despite my insistence at seeing Stepford Wives & families everywhere I looked, it was a place I would consider for a rejuvenating vacation.

By peering around Robespierre, you can see that nothing is out of place or in need of weeding or cleaning at this village shop.

The town library (below) is located by the playground. Peyton Place is probably banned from the bookshelves.

Next we see a row of homes that are typical of Thousand Island Park. I hope I can return to get some close-up shots of the craftmanship of the trimwork on these houses. Although these homes face the village green, there are many narrower streets with cottages nestled beneath arching trees. Each home seems to have a unique bit of woodwork or detailing that speaks of a carpenter's love for his craft.

Whew! We got away from Thousand Island Park with our souls intact. Completing our photo-tour today, we have some oddball pictures that I'm throwing in as a sort of lagniappe. First, we have the ramshackle old boathouse at Geraldine Island. I like how its lines are no longer square. This island has a large old summer home that Sadie's parents used to rent before her father built her current place. A private island sounds good, until I remember that I'm the type that grumbles when I'm on the first floor and need something from upstairs. I'd probably amuse myself to no end if I had to crank up a boat motor and head to the mainland.

I think this quaint brick Victorian house with Carpenter Gothic trim was in the town of Depeauville, but it may have been Chaumont. Probably home to a business nowadays. I didn't notice the Canadian flag until I looked at the photograph.

I was a little surprised to learn that this area in upstate New York was settled (by white Europeans, that is) relatively late compared to my little neck of the woods. Jefferson County was founded in 1805, when the third president was in office. Other than the land that fronts Lake Ontario and the St. Lawrence River, it is mostly a rural landscape. Lot's of cows; lots of dairy farms.

And when the farmers get tired of milk, they head into town for something stronger. This has to be the cutest liquor store I've ever laid eyes on. For some of us, cute but deadly. I'd better stick with the bread.

The Wary Palate in Ontario

See the pretty boat? This view of the river was my starting point each day on vacation, and since I have several shots from this perspective, we'll include one here even though this post is about our day trip to Canada. It also gives you an idea of how wide the St. Lawrence River is in front of Sadie's place.

I'll remember our Canada adventure through some photos, and will post other vacation pictures later. I know that you guys have short attention spans, so I won't cram everything into one post. Plus, I'm easily distracted, so I don't want to bite off more than I can chew. Today's tour starts at the end of my time in the 1000 Islands, and we'll go back to the first part later, just to jumble things up and keep everyone on their toes.

We drove to Canada on my last full vacation day before heading home. Upon crossing the bridge to our northern neighbor, we headed west on the Thousand Islands Parkway. The scenery was lovely, mostly rural, and there was a bicycle path to the side of the road separated by a generous median. It was hot as blue blazes, but there were a surprising number of sweaty, intrepid cyclists. They were probably all saying to themselves "I can't believe how F-ing hot it is out here. This is CANADA, for crying out loud! I don't remember this hill. Why am I doing this? I'm an idiot." Temperatures were 20° above the normal average high for July while we were there.

The first town we came to was Gananoque. I memorized the pronunciation by repeating the rhyme "The right way, the wrong way, and the Gananoque" in my head. Thank goodness for wikipedia; I also found out that Gananoque is the First Nations name for town on two rivers.

We thought Gananoque was a pleasant town. It has a population of around 5200, and we shopped along King Street in the old downtown section, which is about a dozen blocks from the river.

I liked the bowling alley/theater combo. It turns out that five-pin bowling is played only in Canada, and is the dominant form of the game in most provinces. The balls are handheld so there are no finger holes, and there is a rubber belt around the pin (which is depicted in the sign below). The pins are set up in a V formation.

We also found a curling arena in town. Between curling and five-pin bowling, we felt like we were really getting somewhere other than the USA. We were in a foreign land with strange customs and very pretty paper currency.

From Gananoque, we made our way to the port city of Kingston (aka Limestone City), which is much larger than Gananoque with its population of nearly 200,000. Kingston served as the first capital of the united Canadas, but only for a short while in the 1840's. The city was a haven for Loyalists fleeing the new United States, and was a base for a British naval fleet during the War of 1812. Today, the Royal Military College of Canada is located here, along with Queen's University and St. Lawrence College. It was a busy little city, and Robespierre was immediately impressed & ready to move there.

Kingston made a favorable impression on Sheldon, too, but for a different reason. Here in Kingston, right around lunch time, Sheldon spotted a McDonald's and he was determined to eat his lunch there. I told him I wasn't setting foot in McDonald's. I'm not a food snob - okay, that's a lie. I am a food snob about fast food chains. Take me to an unassuming little roadside diner, and I'm as happy as a lark. Sit me down at a place that serves regional fare, and I'm as happy as a clam at high water - I'm happy as Larry. I'm a happy camper. Happy, happy, happy. But, no way am I driving to Canada to go to McDonald's.

I went to McDonald's.

But only to take a picture of Sheldon. You can see how disgusted Robespierre feels about the situation.

Sheldon wants you to notice the tiny Maple leaf in the middle of the Golden Arches.
Sheldon claims that he has "the tastebuds of a five-year old," but I don't buy it. He cooks good meals for himself at home using whole foods, not convenience items. He grows nice vegetables in his garden each summer. He'll tackle new recipes in the kitchen like the chocolate silk pie he's made several times that involves whipping the heavy cream and dragging out a double-boiler. He likes looking through cooking magazines.

I think he believes fast food chains are safer than restaurants operated by locals. He's gastronomically xenophobic. That's my theory. He's a closet gourmet with germophobia.

While Sadie, Robespierre & I ate lunch at a restaurant with real food, Sheldon wandered around taking pictures. The Kingston City Hall, built in 1842, is shown above. Below, shops & restaurants along King Street. The main shopping street is Queen Street, but you don't want to overlook Princess Street, either.

After a late lunch, we had to race to the docks to catch the ferry to Wolfe Island. The crossing took twenty minutes. We landed at the township of Frontenac Islands, and then we zipped straight across the island to catch the last ferry of the day back to the United States. If we'd missed it, there would have been quite a few kilometers to backtrack. We saw lots of those huge wind turbines on Wolfe Island.

Wolfe Island has more wind turbines than any other place on the planet! That's not true, but it got your attention for a moment. The Wolfe Island Wind Farm is the second largest turbine project in Canada.

The ferry from Wolfe Island to Cape Vincent, New York, was quite a bit smaller than any of us expected.

I read that the ferry from Wolfe Island to Cape Vincent was first licenced in 1802, and has been operated by the same family ever since. I wonder if they're operating the original ferry?

The Customs House at Cape Vincent was about the size of a porta-potty, with two border guards in control. They were thorough about examining passports and searching the car, and they nearly drew guns on a Canadian who walked up to ask a question, so I decided against telling them to pose for vacation photos.

Robespierre & I left the next morning for home. Sheldon stayed a couple more days and returned by plane. The drive home was long and exhausting. There is a stretch of I-81 in Pennsylvania that, in 30+ years of travel through that area, I have never seen free of road construction.

The pictures below were taken at the end of Sadie's driveway. It was hay baling time in the upper reaches of New York.



Here's what I'm talking about! We were feeling peckish by the time we reached Lafayette NY, so we stopped for lunch. Robespierre spotted a likely spot with a dual moniker: Old Times Cafe or Cindy's Family Restaurant. Take your pick. I had a fantastic cheeseburger (white cheese!) that was obviously not a frozen-from-a-box imitation of an honest diner burger. Hand-cut fries provided the classic side, and they were excellent as well. Robespierre couldn't decide what to order, so he got two lunches. Not to be outdone, I finished things off with a slice of homemade strawberry-pineapple pie with whipped cream. Yes, it was so good I wanted to smack my grandma.

Now, that's good roadfood when you're on vacation.

Serenity

I took a vacation to the 1000 Islands region in upstate New York. I would get up early each morning and enjoy a cup of coffee, contemplating the view from the porch of Sadie's summer home. The picture was taken one morning at 5:47, before passing boats & ships disturbed the calm waters. It was a gentle way to begin the day.

I'll be posting more pictures from my vacation soon.

Beach Blanket Dermabrasion

I've been a terribly indifferent blogger lately, no doubt disappointing all three of my faithful readers. Everyday life keeps me busy, and when I get home I've been too tired to do much more than check my mail when I settle in front of the computer. Nonetheless, I wanted to post a few pictures and let you know what I've been up to recently.

Early April marked three years of sobriety for me, and nine of us piled in our cars and drove out to the country to have a celebratory Sunday dinner. Boy, did we eat like pigs! We went to Tanglewood Ordinary, along Route 6 in Maidens, where the food is served family-style in heaping bowls at your table. There was a whole lot of "Pass the biscuits, please" being said at our table (can anyone name what song that's from? hint: it was the third of June...). We had fried chicken, country ham, pot roast, cornbread, biscuits, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, macaroni & cheese, cole slaw, black-eyed peas, and stewed tomatoes. Everything was made right there, and it was so good it made our toes curl.

We had time to relax on the porch while we waited for everyone to arrive. It couldn't have been a sweeter early Spring day.

Tanglewood Ordinary is much newer than it looks. The original two-room cabin was built in 1928, with additions added in 1935 & 1942. Starting out as a filling station and sandwich shop, it became a well-known honky-tonk with its downstairs dance hall. It was even a popular hang-out for lesbians back in the 1950's.

Below, the countryside stretches away in all directions from the restaurant. This photo was taken from the parking lot.

In early April, I went to a state assembly in Virginia Beach to give a presentation. I stayed at the (new) Cavalier Hotel, and I made sure I was up in time to see the sun rise over the ocean.

The new Cavalier Hotel was built in the 70's, and is a typical high-rise beachfront hotel. Across Atlantic Avenue sits the old Cavalier Hotel, which opened in 1927. The old hotel is only open now during high season. Back in the 20's, the Cavalier boasted its own railway spur which brought guests to its private depot. Guestroom bathtubs offered extra spigots for saltwater baths. One guest must not have found everything to his liking. Adolph Coors, founder of Coors Brewery, plunged to his death from the sixth floor in 1929.

Shuffleboard, anyone? Does anyone know how to play shuffleboard these days?

The coastal winds create sculptured & twisted trees. In areas that aren't trampled constantly by people, foliage just off the beach is dense, lush, and close to the ground.

Take a look at this piece of homemade coffee cake I snagged from the hospitality suite! It pays to be an early riser. The crunchy topping was an inch thick, and the cake paired well with a cup of coffee as I watched the sun climb over the Atlantic.



This past weekend I returned to Virginia Beach with Sadie & Sheldon for an overnight stay. Sheldon found a great bargain on oceanfront rooms by booking in March. We got to the hotel before our rooms were ready, so we walked out to the beach to catch some sun. I had forgotten how windy it is on the beach this early in the season. In high school, my friends & I would go to Fort Story where we could sun on the rocks above the sandy beach.

Saturday afternoon, I endured about thirty minutes of free, painful dermabrasion on the beach in front of the hotel. I lay prone on my beach towel, fruitlessly seeking Nirvana, as stinging sand blasted my skin. When I sat up, there was an outline of me on my sand-encrusted towel. I reflected that sandblasting is the method of carving epitaphs on granite tombstones, and I grumbled that I was returning to the hotel. By then the rooms were ready, and I washed about a half-pound of sand down the drain in the shower. The picture to the left, taken at Fort Story, shows the native seaside foliage when left unhindered. Seen up close, it reminds one of Br'er Rabbit's briar patch.

The photo below was taken from my hotel balcony.


Sunday, after checking out, we rode to Fort Story and took pictures of the lighthouses. Both stand on Cape Henry, and the brick lighthouse dates from 1792, and was the country's first federal construction project under the Constitution.




The newer light was erected in 1881.


Before we returned home, we drove across the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel, since Sadie had never seen it. Altogether, the bridge linking the mainland to Virginia's Eastern Shore is twenty-three miles long. When I was a tyke, and my grandparents were visiting from Iowa, my grandfather & I would sit on the beach to watch this engineering marvel being constructed. I'm sure that Grandpa's farmer friends heard all about it when he returned home.

The Eastern Shore, below, is a quiet refuge compared to Virginia Beach.


Below, the Sunday morning beachfront as seen from my hotel room.

The One Hundred & Forty Five Year Boat Ride

Spring sprung. It happened fast here in Richmond. For awhile, it crouched like a wild-eyed cat wiggling its backside, positioning itself for the kill. When it pounced, it was quick. My sinuses were the first to alert me that we were under attack.

I endured four days of endless sneezing, but now I've adjusted. I learned years ago that if I take allergy medicine, then I'm stuck taking it. It's better for me to suffer a few days of hell and let my body regulate naturally. I was tempted, though, to stuff tissues up my nose at the office and just let them hang there, daring anyone to say anything. A runny nose is so aggravating.

In an effort to ignore my nose, I roamed around the Fan District taking some pictures. I'm only including a few. The photo at the top shows a camellia blossom. We had those around our house when I was growing up.

The tree immediately above is a saucer magnolia, and their blooms are really spectacular.

Below you'll see Robert E. Lee astride his mount in the center of Monument Avenue. In the distance is Stuart Court, where I lived in the early 80's.

Springtime means that Sadie pulls her plaid boating shoes from the back of her closet and starts humming sea shanties. A boat from her fleet is brought out of storage and delivered to her home, all spruced up and ready for cruising on the James River. The following pictures were taken on Easter Sunday. Sadie, Sheldon & I went down to Hopewell and back.

Appomattox Manor, shown below, sits on the promontory of City Point at Hopewell, and was the Union headquarters during Grant's siege of Petersburg. Here the waters are wide, and the house overlooks the confluence of the James & Appomattox Rivers. Toward the end of the Civil War, when the Union forces occupied this plantation, City Point was the busiest port in the world with an enormous U.S. supply depot for its troops.

Appomattox Plantation dates back to 1635, and the house itself was a century old when Grant used it as his headquarters. President Lincoln was visiting here when the Confederate government fled Richmond after setting it ablaze. On Easter Sunday, it was hard to imagine the calm waters bristling with schooners, packet ships, paddle wheelers, and supply barges.

One hundred & forty five years ago, after the fall of Richmond, Abraham Lincoln insisted upon being taken upriver to Richmond. Grant's staff pleaded against such a risky venture, but Lincoln would have none of it. Two days after the evacuation of the Confederate Capital, Lincoln and his son Tad were aboard the steamer River Queen heading up the same river that that Sadie had navigated. We had no need to worry about mine-laced waters, however, as Lincoln did.

About noon, the steamer encountered a line of Confederate obstructions in the river; sunken objects intended to keep Richmond safe from Union forces. Above this line, many mines remained in the water, but a side-wheel steamer, the Malvern, swept the waters. Also in attendance were a gunboat, and a transport ship holding a cavalry escort and the president's carriage & horses.

Pictured below, a modern-day dock worker sullenly prepares to pump gas into Sadie's boat. Oh, wait, that's Sheldon.

We gassed up, got ice cream, and I bought a t-shirt at Jordan Point Marina. Beyond Sheldon you can see the Benjamin Harrison Bridge, and there's a better picture of it below. The bridge replaced ferry service in 1966, and eleven years later an ocean-going tanker rammed the bridge.

The lift span had been raised for the ship, which meant that motorists were sitting on the bridge in their cars waiting for the vessel to pass. When it became clear that the ship was heading directly for them, people scrambled from their vehicles and ran pell-mell for their lives. Four cars tumbled into the water, but no one was hurt. It took twenty months to repair the bridge. Somehow, Sadie avoided ramming the bridge and inconveniencing commuters. Hats off to you, Captain Sadie!

Next we see a house on a bluff perched on the riverbank. Notice there are trees around the house. In general, there are trees lining the banks of the river. In fact, there are trees nearly everywhere you go in Virginia. One of my mother's cousins from Iowa, en route to our house on vacation, reportedly went temporarily mad in the car somewhere around Williamsburg after riding for miles surrounded by deep woods and screamed "WHAT IS BEHIND ALL THESE TREES???"

I can understand that. In Iowa, if you see trees in the distance, it means farm (a few trees) or town (many trees). Otherwise it's just fields. Ruth was simply thrown off-balance by so many things growing out of the ground that weren't crops.

Sheldon, on the other hand, grew up in Virginia. He's lived here all his life. As we passed by one of the few barren spots along the James, with probably an unsightly landfill over the rise of the bank, he commented on "how pretty that looks." What a weirdo. He & I have been riding in the car together, and he'll say "Boy, I like that house" and when I look, there's a home with not a tree in the yard and about two scraggly bushes huddled up to the house. I think he may have fallen on his head out of a tree when he was little. There's a resentment there somewhere.

On our way upriver, we passed this boat coming down; the Do Run Rum. What a splendid boat.

Going back to Lincoln's journey up this river in 1865, it was near this place that all of the vessels in his flotilla were unable to pass a second line of obstructions; the Confederates had sunk entire steamships to keep Richmond secure. Only a small span remained open. No doubt, the attending officers & crew were relieved.

Until Lincoln insisted upon being transferred to the admiral's barge, which was really just a big rowboat. A small steam tug, with thirty marines aboard to guard Lincoln, took the barge in tow. Lincoln was in high spirits, even as wrecked shipping and dead horses, the detritus of war, floated by.

There's Jimmy Dean the Sausage King's home below, rebuilt after a fire. No pigs visible in the yard.

As we got back to Sadie's place, we passed by the Boathouse Restaurant. In a river town, oddly, it's one of the only places you can dine right next to the James River. Apparently, is used to be a power plant.

On that long-ago journey to Richmond, the tugboat ran aground before reaching the city. Lincoln would continue without an escort. Four ships holding hundreds of sailors & soldiers had been reduced to an open rowboat. Twelve sailors guarded the President of the United States as he walked uphill to the White House of the Confederacy. He had made it safely to the capital of the enemy. Ten days later he would be shot in Washington, D.C. I reflected on the brash voyage of a complex and inspiring man as I looked out on the placid waters of the James River on Easter Sunday.

Here's Sadie's place, preparing to slide into downtown Richmond by the looks of this photograph.

And we end our boat ride with Fisherman Sheldon showing us how not to catch anything at all.

Of course, the next time he was out on the boat, he caught a very large shad. He says. I wasn't there to verify that tall tale. I have to rag on Sheldon a bit; he has a birthday this Friday, and he's younger than me, the bastard.