Remnants of Irene

It is not at all diifficult to find Irene's effects in our corner of Ulster County. Creek-side litteris not only about last on the list of what needs cleaning up; usually it is simply left alone. Until the next flood.

Evidence of a mortar-free stone wall, from long ago, stands astride the new stream bed carved out by Irene's waters. Here we walked, between the Old Plank Road and the Esopus. Is that tree from nearby, or from afar?

 Part of a port-a-potty, the roof, it'd seem.

 A bread basket, the sort of a delivery is made on, one a a handful we saw as we walked.

 Another basket.

 Tree litter, as if they were matchsticks.

 Where did that piece of black lumber come from?

A backpack, perhaps a pillow?

Upstate, mid-December

Autumn is a distant memory, winter a threat, looming but not quite here, yet. Nonetheless, it has gotten cold, and the scenery is stark. Leaves are gone, mostly. Colors are reduced to muted tones, but for the occassional berry.

Campers are no longer using Wilson State Park, and cross-country skiers haev not yet arrived, awaiting snow. That leaves the Park open for hikers and dogwalkers, and dogs, and, of course, the ever-present geese.

Berries provided the only bright color; well, the red-stemmed plants do lend some variation, as well.

A weir between the lake and the creek.

Using auto-focus on the camera provides this unintended shot: the bush is focused on, the weir in the background.

A bird house is stuffed full of nesting material.

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Chien-Chi Chang

A Magnum member. I received the Magnum email,and it featured this priceless photogrpah.

Queens restaurant

Picture not clear, but intent is. Good restaurant in Bayside, Queens, on Springfield Boulevard and 64th Avenue.

Brooklyn

Brooklyn Museum, 8.pm

Trotting Course Lane

In the triangle bound by Trotting Course Lane (I sure would love to know the origin of that street name) and Alderton Street, I found Remsen Cemetery. Soldiers from the revolutionary War are buried there; the nearby plaque refers to Cooper Regiment.

The plaque is back there, beyond the chain bounding the burial ground itself.

Though the sun washes out the legend on the plaque, one can see statues of douhgboys keeping vigil over other graves. A couple of them were unreadable.


Then I proceeded up Alderton Street. Beautiful autumn colors this year, such as this small maple.

Intersection of Yellowstone Boulevard and Alderton. I am accustomed to seeing Yellowstone up by Queens Boulevard; this was something of a surprise, to encounter it here.

A beautiful Japanese maple in full regalia, as I proceeded up Alderton.

Dieterle Crescent was one of several semicircular streets that started and ended at Alderton.

This next one is a curiousity: the map does not show it, but clearly it is there. I believe I was on the eastern side of Alderton.

Where do these street names come from?

Asquith? The Asquith?

Walking along 64th Road, after bearing left (west), some more pretty autumn colors.

And, Fitchett?

Heading southeast on Wodhaven Boulevard, another named avenue.

A one-block long street, Goldington Court.

And Furmanvill, at the northern boundary of St. John's Cemetery.

World Trade Center memorial

Freedom Tower on the rise.

Music in the subways

Changing from the 6 to the N, we happened upon a musician playing the electric harp (a new one for me). Just as I took the shot, someone passed in front of me, dropped a coin into the open case, and tried to sneak past.

Occupy Wall Street ?

Watching their every move.

Lovely autumn colors.

 Watching all the time.

That flowing water

On Wednesday 2 November I got this shot of the water along Brookville Boulevard between Merrick Boulevard and 130th Avenue.

A visit to the cemetery

Last Sunday Laura mentioned would be leaving for work early, to stop by the cemetery (to visit her parents's graves). That, unexpectedly, planted the idea in my head to go visit my father's grave. Today I left home early, and stopped by the Maimonides Cemetery in Elmont. I remembered that his grave is beyond Grant Avenue (the up and down streets have Biblical names, the cross streets names of US presidents.

As it turned out, my father's grave is beyond this intersection.

I found it, in part, by searching for an elaborate plot where two de Rotschild graves are located. As we said the day of the gravestone's unveiling, it's a nice neighborhood.

After a bit, I walked over to the other side, to another up and down street, to look for Uncle Benjamin's grave. He's buried inside of a section for graves of people from their native Polish town.

An old practice, from a bygone age.

From 1928.

Cousin Susie, Ben's youngest daughter, died of breast cancer at age 48, nearly 20 years ago.

Uncle Ben's grave. My older son is named after him; he is also Benjamin Weir.

1909-1966: 57 years of age. Not quite 57. In my memory, he seemed older. I was not allowed to go to his funeral, another old practice that is bygone. Having gotten to see his grave was a satisfying feeling. Closure? Perhaps.

A picture of the neighborhood, as it were.

It was about 3 o'clock in the afternoon; Daylight Savings Time ended the prior weekend. Thus, all in all, the afternoon sun was low in the sky.

PC: perpetual care. All those stones have been there for years, but for the one on the right, which I added on my visit. I recognized a couple of the large ones as having been put there by my son David.