Today was a day of sweet urban discovery!

I spent some time in the garden early in the evening, where I noted the impressive new growth on my cactus:


If you recall what it looked like just ten days ago, you'll have to agree this has been quite a little growth spurt.

I noticed this lone poppie on the path on my way out:


I have been exploring Cambridge's sweet, sticky underside on my afternoon commutes. Ever since between MIT and Central Square the unmistakable scent of Tootsie Rolls wafted out across my path, I've been detouring off Mass Ave. to find the source.

I remember when I first came to town nearly fifteen years ago, the awe with which I regarded the old NECCO factory (now home to Novartis laboratories). Fact is, this whole area of The People's Republic was a veritable Candyland once upon a time.

It wasn't long before I found the source of the tootsie roll scent:


And, as luck would have it, there was a big rig at the loading dock:


And no ordinary big rig, either. This was St. Michael's Motor Express ("We Care... We Share"), whose drivers are protected by St. Michael (Field Commander of the Army of God, for those of you not up on your hagiography), and whose rigs exhort fellow drivers: "Got Problems?... Just Have Faith in Jesus!"

St. Michael is also represented in dramatic form on the passenger and driver's side doors of the rig and on the back of the trailer, stomping on the neck of Lucifer, about to plunge his sword into the smarmy devil:


This is a rough copy of the painting by Guido Reni found in the Capuchin church of Santa Maria della Concezione, Rome (with some modifications, like the substitution of scales for chains, and the red devil for the likeness of Pope Innocent X.)

I couldn't tell if the sweet confections protected by St. Michael and driven by Jesus were coming or going, but I plan to say a little prayer the next time I get to the center of a tootsie pop (how many licks it takes is a theological question as vexing, in my opinion, as how many angels can dance on the head of a pin, or how many popes it takes to screw in a light bulb).

My next stop was the old Squirrel Brand Company building...


...whose former parking lot is now a little park:


The pavement pays tribute to all the Squirrel Brand classics, including:


and:


...which I think would be a better band name than Squirrel Nut Zippers, frankly, who did, in fact, name their band after a Squirrel brand candy. But I like The Penis Pumps and Jenny Wolfson's Useless Information as band names, too, so what do I know?

There is also a giant reproduction of a half-submerged Prince Albert on the premises:


I have no idea why.