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Apples, Revels, niece and ghosts

Wednesday 1/3/24

The Admiral dropped off food that the Captain made. That was very nice of them.


My multi-year study has now been completed. I can reveal that green apples are the best fruit.


Isn't it amazing--when you stop to think about it--that there are these things like apples and oranges that grow on trees, and you pull them off and eat them?


There is something romantic about apples to me. It's the New England element. Apples on a tree up on Cape Ann. Apple cider. September. The harvest. Autumn. The smell of apples. Rubbing one against your shirt on a hike, then throwing what is left after you've eaten into the woods, nature returned to--and into--nature.


I went to the last performance of the Revels' celebration of the solstice the other day. The best thing I go to every year. It does me good. And I love the winter solstice. The descending calm. One must have imagination and strength for long winter nights, be they actual or metaphorical; and despite the darkness, there's peace to be found in it. That may be one of the key measures of a person. I think so.


On the way back--from Harvard to the North End, in the darkness and mist--I FaceTimed with my soon-to-be four-year-old niece. She's quite the character. She always take this great interest in there being a school on my street.


My street is one of the oldest in Boston, which makes it one of the oldest in the country. It's very short. I told her that it used to be a path for cows. All of this is true. My mother seemed to think this last bit of information was an invention, but it wasn't. Amelia knows that I can hear the kids at recess when I'm writing at the desk.


Anyway, like I said, it was dark out, and she asked me if there were any kids at the school just then, with me having gotten to my street. This was December 28. I said no, it was night--which she could see; a little bit before I'd shown her a beautiful Christmas tree at the top of the City Hall stairs--and the kids were all gone for the holiday anyway, unless...


And she goes, "What?"


I said, "Unless...there's a ghost."


Her little mouth fell open. She was really into this.


So then she says, "Go check."


I said, "I can't go check! What happens if a ghost gets me?"


She said, "I come."


Pretty funny.



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