sprite writes
broodings from the burrow

July 28, 2011

childminder, mill, burrowers, and dialect
posted by soe 9:28 am

Rudi’s and my workloads this summer have been out of control, not permitting us a long vacation. Last weekend afforded us the opportunity to leave town for a few precious days, the last time this summer we’ll get the chance. We drove north, in search of cooler weather and family time. Here are four (a bonus item in honor of summer holidays!) beautiful things from the trip:

1. Karen and I spend Sunday afternoon in Putnam, leisurely eating brunch, browsing a toy/bookstore, walking along the river, and drinking cool, refreshing beverages in a visit reminiscent of years past. I’d suggested we take her two young kids to the state park (which also would have been lots of fun), but instead her husband Michael said he’d watch them allowing us a perfect girls’ day out on our own.

2. After reading an article about funky used bookstores around the country, I discover one an hour from my folks’ house. Montague Bookmill, along with a restaurant, cafe, music shop, and art gallery, is located along a shady brook in an old, 19th-century mill. Their motto: “Books you don’t need in a place you can’t find.”

3. Our afternoon of swimming in the ocean fizzles just as it’s about to start when a thunderstorm rolls through southern New Jersey. Forbidden from the swimming beach even after the skies clear, we instead head further into the state park, where they have fishing beaches (with dangerous undertow), and walk in the water. Rudi discovers that just under the surface of the sand are millions of small clams. After a wave washes back into the sea, where you have been standing appears to be a pebble- and shell-strewn beach. Within five seconds, though, the pastel-hued shells are gone, having shifted onto their side and burrowed back into the once-again smooth sand. We amuse ourselves by picking up handfuls of sand and having the half-inch creatures burrow into our palms.

4. You know you’re really home when the waitress at your favorite pizzeria double-checks your order by verifying you ordered a “moutz* pie.”

How about you? What’s been beautiful in your world this week?

*For anyone not from southern Connecticut or other places with a large Sicilian population, “mozzarella” is pronounced “MOUT-za-rell” and is shortened to “moutz.”

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