PopWars

The neighbors think there may be two sets of triplets wandering around. We haven’t seen both sets together but we see three young ones and their young mom every day. They may be different sets, we can’t tell. They eat everything. Our ferns, which they usually leave alone have been nibbled to the ground and our Vinca in the pots out back are just stumps.

We sometimes walk in the rain but we waited for it to stop before heading out. The sun was coming out and steam was rising from Pine Valley. We watched a groundhog for a few minutes, we saw a fox slink by and a pack of deer, and then some more and more after that. Not the first time we’ve noticed we see more animals out when it’s raining. In the park on a hillside, near the trail that goes through Tamarack Swamp, we saw five bucks, all with big racks. Three were at least ten pointers. I took some photos to send to our deer hunting neighbor. He has a permit to bow hunt on his property and he will drool over these.

To this day Summerville, on the east side of the Genesee, and Charlotte on the west side are distinctly different communities. Both developed before there was a bridge over the river. There’s historical markers detailing the port of Charlotte’s role in the War of 1812 and the Summerville side is pointed to as an early resort town, an escape from the city.

We took a walking tour of both, a leisurely stroll of the expensive boats in the Port of Rochester and then paused on the O’Rourke Bridge where we looked down on the bustling shipyards in Summerville. In the center of this photo you can see a man towing a kayak with his bicycle. We had lunch at Schooner’s, under an umbrella out on their deck and we watched boats drift past.

We bought some locally grown apricots, plums and corn at Herrama’s and stuck our head in the new Murph’s. There’s a stage in there that would be perfect for Margaret Explosion.

Aptly named, the first day of the week was letter perfect yesterday. Peggi and I were picked up in our driveway and chauffeured in the back seat of Jeff and Mary Kaye’s car to the eastern shore of Sodus Bay where we met our friends, Matthew and Louise. Jeff chose the to hug Ontario’s lakeshore, a dreamy route with gorgeous homes on the lakeside and orchards and barns on the other.

We shared conversation over wood fired pizza and beer under a picnic table umbrella. All the while wondering what it would be like to live on Eagle Island. We heard there is road for golf carts but no car access, only by boat or sled in the winter.

We stopped at this cobblestone house on the way home to inspect it up close. How did those craftsmen get these lake stones set in the concrete without displacing these beautiful ridges?

Our friend, Kathy, haunts second hand stores. And she finds all sorts of treasures at estate sales. I suspect that is where she bought an Italian pasta maker. We borrowed it and Peggi made two batches of pasta. One with mushrooms and one with her sauce. Both were delicious. We ordered one on Amazon and it showed up today so we walked her pasta maker back over to her house. We went through the woods on the way and then along the lake on the way back.

Kathy’s pergola is almost done. The wood has all been carefully scorched and then stained. We have made a point to stop by once a week for the last six just to see it take shape. I was not even sure what a pergola was. I couldn’t understand why you build all this and not put a roof on but now I get it. A pergola is something else altogether. An environment with diffuse light and, as Peggi pointed out, its own sound quality. I’m looking forward to sipping a beer here as we look out on the dreamy Bay.

This establishment is also on Ontario Avenue in Niagara Falls, just down the street from Prophet Isaiah’s Second Coming House which was pictured in yesterday’s post. I’m partial to the New York side of Niagara Falls. I like the view of the Falls better and it’s not as neat and tidy as the Canadian side. My uncle was born here and he and my aunt still live here. My cousin lives next door to them about five minutes from this place.

This neighborhood is still referred to as “Little Italy” even though it is mostly black now. My uncle grew up a block from the Monte Carlo although it wasn’t even here then. It’s not really here now either. The neighborhood went from Irish and Italian to African Americans from down south. Like most northeastern cities it has seen better days but maybe someone will buy the Monte Carlo and open it back up..