Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Mask made in July pottery workshop

Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Waning Moon
Pluto Retrograde
Uranus Retrograde
Neptune Retrograde
Jupiter Retrograde
Mercury Retrograde
Rainy and muggy

Yesterday was a lot of fun. We were out the door early and drove up to Chicopee, MA. I expected Chicopee to be some cute, rural little town. But Chicopee (which, according to the city’s history page, means “river of elms”) dates back to the 1600’s, is much more industrial than I expected (one of their mottos is “Industriae Variae”), including things like bronze and bicycles. Anyway, if you want to read an excellent article on the city’s history in the historian’s words, rather than me telling you ABOUT what this guy says oh, so well, the link is here.

We visited Herbarium, which is a lovely store, and I stocked up on some herbs, oils, and incenses. Very good quality, very nice staff, and I can place online orders in the future.

After that little jaunt, we went round and round to find the Mass Pike (because, like the East Vassalboro, ME story goes, “You can’t get there from here”). Well, you can, but you have to go in circles a few times, because the signs are only in one direction, so you have to go back the way you came, get off the road, cross over it, go back towards the place you’re leaving, and then you find the exit. We finally found the Pike and only headed a couple of exits east (all of 45 cents on the toll road) to Sturbridge.

Ever since Earth Spirits closed, I’ve been looking for the garden center that is supposed to carry a wonderful assortment of herbs and some oils. I think they closed two or three years ago, and I’ve been looking for the center ever since. They’ve got a website. I got the directions the night before the travel. We followed the directions.

Can’t find it.

When I follow the directions, there’s empty space. Fields. Not fields belonging to a garden center, just fields. It doesn’t make sense.

Sort of like when I looked for the Lost Gardens of Heligan in Cornwall, and, to me, they remained lost.

Instead, we went to the stores at Old Sturbridge Village, which are lovely. The Redware pottery is particularly interesting. I didn’t buy much — some mustard and some fudge — but it’s a place to which I’ll go back, especially in the spring, to stock up on heirloom seeds. Their seeds are supposed to grow exceptionally well.

Then, it was off to the Publick House, where I hadn’t been for a few years. It’s a lovely place, and maybe one day, I’ll get to treat myself to staying there for a couple of nights. As it was, we had an outstanding lunch — terrific wine, I had one of the best chicken pot pies ever. I overate, though, and thought they’d have to winch me out of chair so I could waddle back to the car.

Then, we took Rt. 20 E to Rt. 56 to Rt. 12 to Oxford, MA. I had forgotten that Clara Barton, one of my childhood heroines, was born there. I wasn’t in the mood to visit the site, but passed the plaque (and didn’t stop to read it — note this day in history, I usually stop to read EVERY plaque).

We went to Generations, which is a beautiful, beautiful store with oh, so many things I could have spent money on. But I showed some restraint — more incense, more stones, and some oils. They had some gorgeous jewelry and some gorgeous pottery, which I will save for the next trip.

Back over to Sturbridge, hopped I-84, and headed back home, getting home a little before 5.

Nice day, in spite of the weather, and quiet night, much needed. Elsa is not doing well, but she is hanging in there, and I hope tomorrow’s treatment will help a lot.

The blowback from the filings against the landlord will start any minute (thankfully, I am not the only person filing, for once), and they will be ugly, so I’m trying to prepare, both mentally and physically.

Got a little bit of writing done, but not much, this morning. Will try to remedy that, and get back on track. Have to run some errands this morning, and, this afternoon, will help a neighbor with something.