Egyptian afternoon

Safe as houses

We are well south of Boston but the hush of it all has spread even this far. My husband couldn't take the commuter rail into town because the MBTA has shut down, and anyway, his office is in the heart of the city and is closed. We are all of us sheltering in place in one way or another, holding our breath and hoping for resolution.

When you have a child, you do your best to shield them from it all. You promise that the world is a safe place. You hold hands. You walk away from the tv and the computer and you step into the woods and built little fairy houses. Safe as houses. That's what we want to be.





May Nothing Evil Pass This Door


May nothing evil cross this door,
and may ill fortune never pry
about these windows; may the roar
and rain go by.

By faith made strong, the rafters will
withstand the battering of the storm.
This hearth, though all the world grow chill,
will keep you warm.

Peace shall walk softly through these rooms,
touching our lips with holy wine,
till every casual corner blooms
into a shrine.

With laughter drown the raucous shout,
and, though these sheltering walls are thin,
may they be strong to keep hate out
and hold love in.


by Louis Untermeyer








Prints are available at Ali Crehan Photography.

Another sign of spring

Another sign of spring? Muddy children.

Funnily enough, the children were nowhere to be found in the wildflower garden - but remnants of their presence were scattered all over the path. I hope they just went home barefoot and half-naked; otherwise I'm going to feel very guilty about not checking the grounds more carefully.



Prints are available at Ali Crehan Photography.

Let there be spring.

There were flowers against a perfectly blue sky. And it was good.


Prints are available at Ali Crehan Photography.

Boston, you're my home.

On Sunday we went to Fenway Park. It was a near perfect day, with good friends and a great game. I brought along Ethel, my faithful old P90, and noodled around with crowd shots. Just black and white random photographs with a camera that fits into my purse, noisy and full of humanity.




If we had gone to the game on Monday, we'd've walked up the finish line of the Marathon and cheered for the runners.



That's what you do. Marathon weekend, if you're in town you watch for the runners with their tell-tale shirts and gear and you wish them well. It feels like a party in Boston, with the energy so high.



And Boston's not a big city, so we all know someone who's running, or who's volunteering at the finish line or hanging out on the sidelines somewhere along the route to cheer a loved one on. And we get to share it with runners from all over the world. It's pretty damn cool.



And we've all walked in and out of those stores on Boylston and hung out on the steps at the Copley Branch of the Boston Public Library. We've walked across the finish line after the race has been run but before the street gets opened up to traffic again.



And it's all so incredibly close to home. I look at these pictures from the day before and I wonder about all the people. Are they ok? We were ok then, on that beautiful afternoon. The sun broke through and the clouds were fat, luscious cottonballs lolling on a blue sky. Clay Buchholz came thisclose to a no hitter while we ate Fenway franks and peanuts and the wave made its way around the park to the delight of the kids I was surrounded by. We were ok. And the world felt safe.





Prints are available at Ali Crehan Photography.

Boston Marathon

Please hold Boston in your heart.











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Ready

Boats at Museum Beach are ready for spring - and good thing, because this week promises to be beautiful and warm.

Prints are available at Ali Crehan Photography.