Cow Hampshire: The Spotted Cow Has Left The Building

The spotted cow has left the building…. temporarily.

Translation: I am taking a week-long vacation.

Starting this Saturday I’m headed to the Connecticut shore for a few days, with a stop-over in Newport, Rhode Island, followed by visits to various and sundry relatives throughout New England.

I’ve visited every tour-able mansion in Newport at least three times, so this visit to that lovely maritime port will be a night-over in a quaint (albeit pricey) inn with a great view, a day of Bannister’s Wharf Shopping, an ocean tour boat adventure, and taking lots of photographs. Oh, and did I mention that I will eat a great deal of seafood.   This blog has a category “Not New Hampshire,” so possibly the Newport visit will result in an article.  I’m looking for even a tiny New Hampshire connection (can you smell smoke?).

I use a Sony Mavica, a camera that writes to a mini-CD.  I’m at a loss why this camera did not become an instant hit.  I realize it is a bit larger than the pocket cameras, but I like having a camera that is large enough so I can keep track of where it is.  Most people forget to back up their pictures to a CD, and so when their computer eventually crashes, poof goes all their lovely photos.  I buy the cheap packages of write-able mini-CDs, and don’t worry about having to delete photographs I don’t like.  When the CD is full (after several hundred pictures, depending on their quality) I mark the disk, so I know generally what is on it, and I pop in a new one. A package of 10 CDs costs me from $8-12.  This route seems much cheaper than the limited capacity, and easy to lose, memory sticks.

The area where I’m staying in Connecticut (somewhere east of New Haven) was the stomping grounds of some of my ancestors. It seems like no matter where I go in New England, at least one of my ancestors was there first, in an odd kind of genealogical one-upmanship.

True to a historian’s behavior, I have an written agenda for every day of the vacation.  While I’m away, Cow Hampshire blog is on autopilot.  It is pre-programmed to post an article, once every two days. Being able to post in advance is just one reason I love BlogHarbor as my blog host.  A second reason is that their service allows me to show a listing of trackbacks, and delete/delete and block/accept the trackbacks selectively, or according to my whim. To be honest, they convinced me I should try blogging in the first place.

Don’t get into trouble while I’m gone. Or, if you do, write a good story and share it here.  That is, after all what written history is–sharing our stories of the good, the bad and the ugly.

Janice

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New Hampshire: Saddened Angels Who Got the Shove

I can’t help it….

I enjoy cemeteries.  They are usually hushed places, except for the warbling of thoughtless birds. The smell of newly cut grass and crushed flowers fills your nostrils. Every stone has a story–that is the best part.

I happened to recently read Episode 6, called “Hades” from “Ulysses” by James Joyce. It reminded me of my graveyard jaunts (as follows)….

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“Mr Bloom walked unheeded along his grove by saddened angels, crosses, broken pillars, family vaults, stone hopes praying with upcast eyes, old Ireland’s hearts and hands. More sensible to spend the money on some charity for the living.

Pray for the repose of the soul of. Does anybody really?

Plant him and have done with him. Like down a coalshoot. Then lump them together to save time.

All souls’ day. Twentyseventh I’ll be at his grave. Ten shillings for the gardener. He keeps it free of weeds. Old man himself. Bent down double with his shears clipping. Near death’s door.

Who passed away. Who departed this life. As if they did it of their own accord. Got the shove, all of them. Who kicked the bucket.

More interesting if they told you what they were. So and so, wheelwright. I traveled for cork lino. I paid five shillings in the pound. Or a woman’s with her saucepan. I cooked good Irish stew. Eulogy in a country churchyard it ought to be that poem of whose is it Wordsworth or Thomas Campbell. Entered into rest the protestants put it.

Old Dr Murren’s. The great physician called him home. Well it’s God’s acre for them. Nice country residence. Newly plastered and painted. Ideal spot to have a quiet smoke and read the Church Times. Marriage ads they never try to beautify.

Rusty wreaths hung on knobs, garlands of bronzefoil. Better value that for the money. Still, the flowers are more poetical.

The other gets rather tiresome, never withering. Expresses nothing. Immortelles.

[Read the rest of Episode 6 – Hades]

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My headstone should read: “She fell in love with history, and she couldn’t get up.” How about yours?

Comments are welcome

Janice

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Woodcut of Colonists 1600s

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Benjamin West Kilburn, Photographer and Manufacturer Stereoscopic Views

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New Hampshire: The Webcam Tourist

Sometimes I can’t resist the urge

to visit a webcam site and see how various parts of New Hampshire are faring.

Is it raining?  Are there crowds? Or even snow?  I can discover comfortably from in front of my computer, thanks to the ever-growing use of webcams.  From the top of Mount Washington to Nubble Light (yes, I know that is in Maine, not New Hampshire), I can virtually visit whenever I feel like it. Continue reading

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