US Airways 2031: BOS to DCA

Gate  B19

MIT Campus from Cambridge Marriott

15th floor

MIT Strata Center : reflected self-portrait

MIT + 150 = Inventional Wisdom

Catchy tagline

Plymouth Rock

Martin Kalfatovic
udc793.blogspot.com

<mobile>Sent from handheld</mobile>

Mobile Service Center, route 6, Cape Cod

A slice of America under one roof!

Martin Kalfatovic
udc793.blogspot.com

<mobile>Sent from handheld</mobile>

Dead End: Puritan Drive, a street sign, but also theologically interesting

2011.08.19-IMG_4059, a photo by martin_kalfatovic on Flickr.

Saw this street sign in Brewster, Mass. Seemed to be very interesting from multiple points of view. Discuss!

Dragonflies are, perhaps, my favorite insect

Wing Island, Brewster, Mass.

On the marsh walk tour

Sunset, Brewster, Cape Cod, Mass.

Seaside beach snack options, if only there were more fried things

Bike trip to Seymour Pond

Local Flavor Lunch and Bagel at the sign of the mermaid

Pretty good coffee!

Brewster Police cruiser

Another officer of our new friends at the BPD attempting to keep Brewster crime free

Harbor Lights Mini Golf, Brewster, Mass.

Poor round of 47. 1 hole in one

Monomoy National Wildlife Refuge

High tide

Candee Virgin, store manager

Just sayin'

Cape Cod Natural History Museum

Tide pool exhibition on a rainy day

Indian food by order, Brewster, Mass.

Sounds deli-sh!

QotD: Through the fence, between the curling flower spaces, I could see them hitting

Through the fence, between the curling flower spaces, I could see them hitting.They were coming toward where the flag was and I went along the fence. Luster was hunting in the grass by the flower tree. They took the flag out, and they were hitting. They put the flag back and they went to the table, and he hit and the other hit. (William Faulkner, The Sound and the Fury, 1929).

Starting a little vacation time in Brewster, Mass. One of the benefits is that I look out right over a golf course (too bad I don't play golf). So this morning, at 6:04 a.m. they were out mowing the grass ("greens"?) and such. Shortly after they finished, I heard the "pock, pock" of the driving. The sound made me think to that wonderful opening scene of Faulkner's The Sound and the Fury where Luster is out with Benjy hunting for golf balls on the side of the course that was the land that properly belonged to Benjy had not the weight of being a Compson crushed down the that which was the being of Caddie and Jason, and Quentin, yes, even Quentin; Quentin that was not even Quentin. That weight, which, some would say was not the weight of being a Compson, but rather was the weight of dirt and blood that was what it was to mean The South at that point in time, or was it truly all times and only that which causes us to rail at the moil and tumult of stirrings, that causes us to think of the tomorrow and tomorrows that exist only to wreak upon us frailties of the todays and yesterday?