We would have gotten up early if not for staying up very late the night before. But I was glad we spent the evening the way we did, since it was in the great company of the "neighborhood" couples and a fine assortment of fabulous calories.
The trip to the Rochester Public Market was necessitated by the markups that make Wegman's supermarkets so successful. We obtained the necessary yams and scallions and more for a fraction of what they would have cost in the warmth under the fluorescent lights. And we had the best breakfast sandwiches ever, right off the grill at Scott's II diner shack.
"Let's take a walk in one of the parks afterward," Mary had previously proposed, so we were properly attired. On the spur of the moment, we decided to take in Highland Park. which is a little less crowded in December than during the May Lilac Festival.
And perhaps the park is less beautiful, but Frederick Law Olmsted's engineering of the land remains appealing even in the snow-tinged cold. But we could only imagine the fragrances.
We walked along the rolling paths below the reservoir and up through the rhododendrons to the empty space where the Children's Pavilion, pinnacle of the park, once stood. It was removed in the 60's. It needs to be rebuilt to bring the park back to its proper grandeur, and to restore the fabulous views that it once provided. I wonder what material and structural changes would need to be made so that the ever-present miscreants will have difficulty destroying it.
Even without the height provided by the three-story pavilion, the views are appealing. Shrouded with ice, the reservoir is not without charm.
As we walked back to the car, we smiled at the workmanship in the valley below the street. A foot-trodden peace sign appeared on the floor of the gully, the result of concerted efforts by at least one unseen boot-clad artist.
My mother has always loved going to this peaceful park. She even duplicated it in some small fashion with the numerous lilacs in her back yard. It is difficult now, even when it is warm, since the uneven footing and changes in altitude makes the use of her walker impossible. And the logistics of wheelchair use are not an incentive for family outings.
But she still makes some efforts to have a good quality of life, even though aid is constantly necessary. The previous day, we had watched and listened as Mom sang Christmas carols in the choir at her residence. She was afraid she wouldn't remember the words, and since her eyesight has failed, she has great difficulty even finding the proper page in the songbook.
After the concert, I let her know she did fine. "I watched, Mom. I thought you did pretty well with the words."
"Half the time I was just moving my mouth without singing."
I laughed. "No one knew. You did a good job."
It was a fine event, and nice to see Mom rally for her performance. But one phrase stuck in my head. While she sang Frosty the Snowman, of all songs, I unintentionally reinterpreted the lyrics.
"...let's have some fun, before I melt away."
Indeed.
The trip to the Rochester Public Market was necessitated by the markups that make Wegman's supermarkets so successful. We obtained the necessary yams and scallions and more for a fraction of what they would have cost in the warmth under the fluorescent lights. And we had the best breakfast sandwiches ever, right off the grill at Scott's II diner shack.
 |
| I chose Canadian Bacon. |
"Let's take a walk in one of the parks afterward," Mary had previously proposed, so we were properly attired. On the spur of the moment, we decided to take in Highland Park. which is a little less crowded in December than during the May Lilac Festival.
 |
| The reservoir at Highland Park on a day during the Lilac Festival. |
And perhaps the park is less beautiful, but Frederick Law Olmsted's engineering of the land remains appealing even in the snow-tinged cold. But we could only imagine the fragrances.
We walked along the rolling paths below the reservoir and up through the rhododendrons to the empty space where the Children's Pavilion, pinnacle of the park, once stood. It was removed in the 60's. It needs to be rebuilt to bring the park back to its proper grandeur, and to restore the fabulous views that it once provided. I wonder what material and structural changes would need to be made so that the ever-present miscreants will have difficulty destroying it.
Even without the height provided by the three-story pavilion, the views are appealing. Shrouded with ice, the reservoir is not without charm.
As we walked back to the car, we smiled at the workmanship in the valley below the street. A foot-trodden peace sign appeared on the floor of the gully, the result of concerted efforts by at least one unseen boot-clad artist.
My mother has always loved going to this peaceful park. She even duplicated it in some small fashion with the numerous lilacs in her back yard. It is difficult now, even when it is warm, since the uneven footing and changes in altitude makes the use of her walker impossible. And the logistics of wheelchair use are not an incentive for family outings.
But she still makes some efforts to have a good quality of life, even though aid is constantly necessary. The previous day, we had watched and listened as Mom sang Christmas carols in the choir at her residence. She was afraid she wouldn't remember the words, and since her eyesight has failed, she has great difficulty even finding the proper page in the songbook.
After the concert, I let her know she did fine. "I watched, Mom. I thought you did pretty well with the words."
"Half the time I was just moving my mouth without singing."
I laughed. "No one knew. You did a good job."
It was a fine event, and nice to see Mom rally for her performance. But one phrase stuck in my head. While she sang Frosty the Snowman, of all songs, I unintentionally reinterpreted the lyrics.
"...let's have some fun, before I melt away."
Indeed.
