
You never know what we'll churn up in cleaning a stall

The town of Newington, just over the bridge on our way to Portsmouth, is easily misunderstood.
With a 2010 population of a mere 753, it often appears to be little more than the Spaulding Turnpike exits to the mall and big-box stores plus a few apartment complexes and a section of the Pease International Tradeport industrial park.
It also has a major electrical generation plant contributing heavily to the property tax base – a major, major factor for any municipality in New Hampshire as it addresses public finances.
The town is also surrounded on three sides by tidewater, including ocean docking on its eastern edge.
But the place was also severely impacted during the Cold War when the U.S. Air Force used eminent domain to acquire 4,255 acres to construct an air base (now turned into the industrial zone) mostly in Newington. The noise of bomber-sized jet planes taking off and landing did little to enhance the neighborhood as a place to live peacefully in those days – the frequent interruptions even forced the grade school to find a quieter setting. After all, its runway, now used by commercial, private, and National Guard flights, is among the longest in New England.
Given those factors, few people would have much incentive to take the Nimble Hill Road exit from the turnpike.
As it turns it, the road presents some classic New England just before culminating in a dead end near the runway. The historic district is a treasure.
Here’s a taste of what you’d see.







As municipalities emerged in the 19th century, the populace often took pride in the local identity – and this was reflected in the craftsmanship and details adorning their public buildings.




Situated at the mouth of the Merrimack River, Newburyport, Massachusetts, has a historic harbor and charming brick downtown – one that echoes many others in New England, for that matter. Its residential neighborhoods are likewise filled with a range of fascinating details from many historic styles. But for me, the real glory is High Street, built at the height of the lucrative whale oil business. Interspersed among the dominant federal-style houses are some other fine examples. Here’s a sampling.








The Cascade Range in Washington state holds a special place in my heart.
It’s reflected in several of my novels and many of the poems.

Few photos, though, do the mountains justice. But they do help keep the memories vibrant.

Somehow I avoided most of the usual traffic tie-ups and wound up with some extra time to kill in the Boston area on what turned out to be the first afternoon with real spring in the air. Given the time to kill, I headed off, camera in hand, for a walk along the Charles River.
At one point, I looked down along the riverbank and saw a limb draped out into the water. Five turtles were sunning on it in a wonderful composition. The camera was in focus and I needed one more step before I aimed and clicked. Just as I did, they slipped one by one into the water.
Maybe next time.
On the way back, I came up on a couple, hand in hand, as they strolled along the pathway. Another great shot, this time of street fashion. They were in matching all black, except for his shorts, which were black with great swirls of yellow and orange. I should have taken a shot but wanted to respect their privacy.
Now I’m wishing I’d gone ahead anyway.
Two nights before, as I was heading off to a committee meeting, I saw the perfect shot of the tower on City Hall, its gold-leaf dome and golden weathervane brightly lighted by the setting sun against a slate-gray background. Unfortunately, I wasn’t carrying my camera.
That has me thinking how many great photos turn out to be like those turtles, just slipping out of sight.
Maybe it provides all the more respect for the good photos we have.