Feel the Burn
Every year right about this time someone or other sets fire to the reeds in the Fens — could be a coincidence, could be some crazy coot — but no one in the gardens that I talked to had ever seen such a spectacular burn as the one this afternoon.
I was not in the garden when it started just before dusk. I was in my apartment. But not only could I see it from my balcony, I could literally feel the heat of the flames. It's a lot like a Sox game for me these days. Last night's season opener? It might as well have been in my living room. Which was fine, until 5-year-old Josh Sacco made that cloying speech. Am I the only one who thought he sounded just like Zelda Rubenstein in Poltergeist? (And it was basically the same speech.)
As for the annual burn, I usually only see the aftermath, but now that I live right across the street I couldn't pass up the chance to run down, along with the kids from the neighborhood, to watch it happening.
Not to worry. Phragmites, the invasives sometimes affectionately referred to as "the reeds", are indestructible. They willl be sprouting anew by the end of the week, and will be back to full height before you can say, "dude, where's my bike?"
I was not in the garden when it started just before dusk. I was in my apartment. But not only could I see it from my balcony, I could literally feel the heat of the flames. It's a lot like a Sox game for me these days. Last night's season opener? It might as well have been in my living room. Which was fine, until 5-year-old Josh Sacco made that cloying speech. Am I the only one who thought he sounded just like Zelda Rubenstein in Poltergeist? (And it was basically the same speech.)
As for the annual burn, I usually only see the aftermath, but now that I live right across the street I couldn't pass up the chance to run down, along with the kids from the neighborhood, to watch it happening.
It was quite the conflagration. Within minutes the fire had worked its way from one end of the Fens to the other, towards the crowd on the Boylston Street bridge, which got thicker as the fire approached, and eventually had to be herded into the street as the flames reached it.
I was down in the garden by then, and one of my fellow gardeners with a plot down by the river ran up excitedly to ask me if I had seen all the geese flying into the flames.
"Their nests were in there!" he cackled.
Sounds like a motive to me.
Speaking of criminal minds. I watched this bloke —
Before:
After:
I was down in the garden by then, and one of my fellow gardeners with a plot down by the river ran up excitedly to ask me if I had seen all the geese flying into the flames.
"Their nests were in there!" he cackled.
Sounds like a motive to me.
Speaking of criminal minds. I watched this bloke —
— case the crowd, and finally jump on a bicycle that someone mesmerized by the flames had left momentarily unattended, and pedal off into the sunset. Hmm. A rather elaborate plot just to steal a bicycle, but you never know.
Before:
After:
Not to worry. Phragmites, the invasives sometimes affectionately referred to as "the reeds", are indestructible. They willl be sprouting anew by the end of the week, and will be back to full height before you can say, "dude, where's my bike?"
More pictures here.
See, and you didn't even need to haul your butt back to Somerville to post so promptly.
(More pics 'n' stuff.)
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Please, the word is "pedal", not "peddle". Thanks.
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Thanks Murph! I don't know how my crackerjack team of proofreaders and editors let that one slip by!
I'm sure you're the type who would tell someone you're dining with that they have food in their teeth. I for one, appreciate the candor, even when it lacks tact, but I'll bet you eat alone a lot.
Heterographic homophones are a bitch. Grrr.
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I think the geese clue is a good one. It's probably a tea-partying, Palin-admiring, pro-lifer exercising his right as an American citizen.
I'm surprised you didn't watch the guy with the shorts and blue shirt. Although - Tevas are done, right?
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As long as they're not Crocs.
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Mike, I like how you had it in you to photograph the bike theif, but lacked the sack to say or do anything to alert the victim of the theft. You're an ass.
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Oh, Jay.
When I took the shot of the bicycle thief, I, not having my crystal ball with me (it's heavy -- and I had dashed out the door in a hurry), or my superhero unitard and cape, didn't actually know he was casing the crowd for a bike to steal. I just pointed my point-and-click camera at the crowd on the bridge and clicked. Because I don't generally go around thinking the worst of people (or calling them "asses" like some Tourette's patient shouting down passersby on a street corner), I didn't immediately have him pegged for a bicycle thief. My gaydar's pretty good, but I'm still working on my bicycle thiefdar (which explains the two bikes I, myself, have had stolen in the past five years).
I know this is a hard concept for someone like you, who's obviously omniscient, but I didn't realize what he was up to until he literally pounced, and then -- he was on a bicycle, Jay. I was on foot. It's really all just a matter of physics. I may, indeed, be an ass, but I can't do anything about physics. Sorry. Everyone else was sort of standing there scratching their heads, too, like people do in real time in the real world.
Just so you understand how this stuff works: I wrote the blog after the incident occurred, not, um, before. And with the benefit of hindsight, I could identify the thief in the picture only after he had actually made away with the bike. Is this making sense? Does your head hurt? I'm sorry.
And as for my sack. I will smother you with my massive sack, bitch, and then lash you senseless with my enormous man-whip. I've done it before. Trust me, you don't want to go there.
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