NJ Lighthouse Crawl

Every year, I say I'm going to participate in the New Jersey Lighthouse Challenge in October, and every year I don't. October is a very busy month for me, and I just can't seem to fit it in. This year, Fred, Gladys, and I decided to make our own challenge on Thanksgiving weekend. We thought we'd hit all the oceanside lighthouses from Sandy Hook in the north to Hereford Inlet (North Wildwood) in the south on Day One, hang out in Cape May for Day Two, and then travel north on starting at Cape May (at the confluence of the ocean and Delaware Bay), visiting the three bayside lighthouses. (That's the East Point Lighthouse in Heislerville, on the bay, at the top of this post.)

Unfortunately, Fred had to go to work on the morning of Day One, and I hadn't considered that the days are short and we'd lose daylight around 4:30. This was important because I had planned to photograph each lighthouse even if I didn't climb them. The Day One plan was spread over Day One and Day Two, and there was a lot of extra driving. On the positive side, we enjoyed traveling the Ocean Drive in the off-season through some of the shore towns we don't often visit. Gladys was thrilled that all of the lighthouses were dog-friendly this time of year except Hereford Inlet in North Wildwood. This is because they have a pretty awesome garden and prefer to regulate the fertilizer that goes in it.

So we visited the eleven lighthouses: Sandy Hook, Twin Lights (Navesink), Sea Girt, (Day One); Hereford Inlet, Absecon, Tucker's Island, Barnegat (Day Two); and Cape May, East Point, Finn's Point, and Tinicum (Day Three). I photographed all and climbed none. At the beginning, we borrowed the term 'challenge' for our adventure, but about halfway through changed that to 'crawl' (see the title of this post). Red and green words in this post are hyperlinks, by the way.

STUFF I LEARNED

• Sandy Hook is famous not merely for its nude beach, but also for its lighthouse, the oldest in the United States (1764) and occupied by the British during the Revolutionary War.
• The Absecon and Barnegat (pictured below) lighthouses were designed by the same engineer, Brigadeer General George Meade who later distinguished himself at the Battle of Gettysburg.
• The Absecon Lighthouse is only steps away from the Showboat Casino in Atlantic City, and is New Jersey's tallest lighthouse with 228 steps.
• The exoskeletal Finn's Point (pictured below) and and Tinicum lighthouses are rear range lighthouses, and each was used with another light. Ships' navigators would line up the two lights to make sure they were on course to enter a channel, river, or harbor.

• Cape May is still my favorite.

Washington, Crossing the Delaware

We were a little late arriving in Titusville, NJ, this year for the annual reenactment of General George Washington's historical 1776 crossing of the Delaware River, but we got to see his boat land on the New Jersey side. By the way, Washington and his troops used Durham boats, manufactured in Pennsylvania since 1750 to cross the river. You can read more about them here: http://durhamhistoricalsociety.org/history2.html

You'll recall from eighth grade history that the Americans were not winning battles much at this point of the Revolutionary War. Washington, the great leader that he was, empowered the exhausted troops with his plan to cross the river from their camp in Bucks County, PA, to Titusville, NJ, and march south to Trenton. there they would surprise the Hessian soldiers who fighting for the British. The Hessians, thinking the war was won, were celebrating Christmas in Trenton. Other troops would join Washington's from Princeton, a few miles inland. Washington's plan, originally suggested by a man from Bordentown, NJ, (just south of Trenton), was successful and it turned the tide of the American Revolution.

The historic river crossing is reenacted every Christmas afternoon, and draws rather large crowds on both sides of the river. Uniformed reenactors mingle with the spectators, and some even pose for photos. (That's Gladys, held by her "cousin" Cecily, posing with some soldiers.) Gladys was not thrilled about this event because of the incessant cannon fire which sounded a lot like fireworks to her. She HATES fireworks. Gladys and I wonder: wouldn't cannon fire have alerted the partying Hessians that something was amiss upstream? We're supposing the cannon fire had more to do with showing off artillery than authentic reenactment, but that is just conjecture.

This year's crossing went smoothly from what we could tell, but it doesn't always. Back in 2007, Washington's boat was swept away by the swift current (towards Trenton), and we got a side view.

All was well as 21st-century rescuers were waiting on hand, and Washinton's troops finished their triumphant march through the park.

The Hamilton-Trenton-Bordentown Marsh

I write a lot about Cape May, so much so that many readers probably assume that I live there. No, it was my parents' home, I was born there, and my sister and I maintain our family home there. I planted myself in Hamilton, NJ, because I'm near highways, trains and airports that lead me to all the places I like to visit. (Was that a long story not made short enough?)

My house sits on a bluff overlooking the Hamilton (-Trenton-Bordentown) Marsh, now a county park, but hundreds of years ago it was Lenni Lenape territory. Hunters would wait in what is my backyard for game to appear in the marsh below. Location, location, location.

At the turn of the last century and after, there was an amusement park in the marsh centered around Spring Lake. It was built by a trolley company so that people in Trenton would have a reason to ride the trolley on weekends. This stairway is leftover from that time. Visitors would walk down these steps to get to the amusements after riding the trolley through my current neighborhood's backyards. The houses on my street were built in the 1950s, but this neighborhood is a hodgepodge of single homes, duplexes, and rowhomes of all ages. There is even a mansion once owned by Joseph Bonaparte, Napoleon's older brother. I don't think he lived there, but his mistress did, and he lived on the other side of the marsh in Bordentown. Location, location, location.

Today the marsh is a great place to go to photograph nature in all seasons. In spring, the water lilies begin to bloom in Spring Lake.
And the Old Man Tree is surrounded by new growth.

In summer, wildflowers abound and avian residents hang near the lake to stay cool. This photo, "Single Cattail," actually sold at a marsh photography show a few years ago.

In fall, the leaves turn and start to drop revealing less obstructed views like this one of beaver lodges.

In winter, it's a treat to stand in my backyard and see the marsh covered with snow. Location, location, location.

Dog Friendly Cape May

Hello everyone, I'm Gladys, the Sheltie dog who goes to the beach a lot. Last year, I guest-blogged about Dog Beach, also known as the Bay Beach in North Cape May. Today I'm writing about the ocean beach in Cape May City. Let me assure you this is perfectly legal:

This is where Mom sits when she goes to the beach without me in the summer. I may sound bitter, but I think mom is right that I wouldn't like it. I wear a thick fur coat all year long and I don't really like the hot weather.

I also don't like the water and these ocean waves are a lot bigger than the waves at Dog Beach. (Mom says to call them breakers because it's more descriptive.) On Sunday we walked from the Perry Street Beach up to the Cove. I have never seen so much sand. There's another dog with its people on the jetty in silhouette.

Here's me posing for the camera by the drift fence: This is Sunset Pavilion next to Cove Beach where all the brides go to get married or to have their pictures taken.

And this is Cove Beach See the lighthouse?

After Las Vegas and Disney World, Cape May is the most popular U.S. municipality for weddings.

On the way back to the car, Mom stopped to shoot some pretty Victorian architecture.

What I do not like about Cape May even in the cooler weather are the flagstone sidewalks. I cannot get traction on them. And this: But I really like that beach!

Ugly Fabric?

The New Normal for me consists of staying home on weekends, cooking, sewing, preparing for the work week and maybe cleaning. Extravagant spending seems to be out these days even for those who can afford it, but for a person like me it is just careless. Luckily I can find joy in the simple things like trying new recipes and putting together a new outfit with fabric from the clearance shelf or my extensive fabric stash.

I have almost always been attracted to fabric, first for doll clothes, then clothes for me, and eventually for quilts and home decorating. (Why buy curtains when you can make exactly what you want to fit any window?) My mother was a sewer and used to drag me to fabric stores. As a little kid I found this excruciatingly boring, but when she started buying me inexpensive remnants for doll dressmaking experiments, I began to be very interested in the stuff. If I had a size 8 model I'd show you some of the masterpiece outfits I made from challenging Vogue Patterns in the 1980s, the era of Dynasty. And now that I have figured out how to fit my middle-aged shape I'm at it again. it's fun.

Recently, I've started watching Project Runway. A friend convinced me to try the show, and I wondered why I hadn't already gotten hooked by it. I'm hooked on it now, and although I never learned to sew without a pattern, I sense the need to take risks. Look at this fabric:

Hideously ugly or out-of-this world cool? I am not sure. My mother bought me this piece, about two yards, at Fabricland. (This is the North Plainfield fabric store I mention in the wedding post below, where I found the scrumptious midnight blue silk for a dressy dress.) I had to have this gaudy fabric and I think Mom was nervous and repulsed by my attraction to it. She was going to make something for me--I don't remember what--but I think couldn't bring herself to do it. Months after she passed away, I found it in with her sewing stuff. Somewhat surprised that she hadn't found a new home for it somewhere far away, I took the fabric home. Roughly forty years later, I'm still not sure if it is hideously ugly or way cool. It is sloshing around in my washing machine now to get rid of its musty smell, and after about 45 minutes in my dryer with a Bounce sheet it's going to become a skirt. Or a jumper.

If you see me walking around wearing such a garment, remember this little blogpost and see if you can decide whether it is hideous or cool. (The skirt I mean--that's the risk. I know the story's cool.)

Colors of a Wedding

I went to a wedding Saturday. That night, waiting to fall asleep, I reflected on the colors of the day, something the poet and author Frances Mayes does as she travels, and I've noticed myself doing often. It hadn't only been me noticing colors--my confrere and I had been noticing the colors all day.

First was my dress. I chose the fabric for its delicious texture and rich midnight blue (according to my long-lost Crayola box). My shape demands more of a matronly muumuu style than a flirty cocktail dress, so I think the texture must have interest. As I put the dress parts together and the edges frayed a little, I realized that the fibers were black and fuzzy (warp) and electric blue and shiny (weft). Together, they made a fabric that was bright royal blue in sunlight and dark midnight blue under clouds and ceilings. This meant the dress only matched my bright royal blue brocade purse (shaped like a Chinese take-out container) some of the time.

I walked through green to meet my confrere at two o'clock: his green lawn, leafy green trees, and potted plants all illuminated by the bright September sun. An umbrella of green wisteria extended his front porch roof. He took care with his colors, too: the light brown of his suit was repeated in the light blue of his shirt and tie to create a perfect summer look without resorting to the more casual seersucker or khaki. (I have some classy friends.)

There were many hues of purple, violet, orchid at the church ceremony. The bridesmaids' dresses were what I think I remember Crayola calls mulberry, a reddish purple. The bride's mother wore a shade of purple more like eggplant or aubergine. Purples, pinks and blues in many textures seemed to be the most popular choices for the guests' frocks: strapless, one-shoulder, sheaths and gowns. My confrere and I agreed to dislike one (only one) dress. It was a flat sapphire blue, merely smooth satin with none of the all-important texture so many of the others wore. I had rejected this kind of fabric repeatedly while I searched through fabric stores. With no texture, the eye is drawn to the seams and lines of the garment (the waist, princess seams defining the bodice, the sleeves or armholes), and frequently these are unflattering.

Deep plum defined the reception. The tablecloths puddled on the floor and the napkins too fine to really use matched the darkest hue in the orchids that were everywhere. Young ladies in jewel-tone dresses posed for photos on the terrace with the Lake Nockamixon as a backdrop. The lake changed from bright azure to to sapphire and then disappeared into the darkness as the inside moved from late summer sunlight to warm candlelight. Tiny green and white lights dotted the lake like nonpareils to mark the locations of boats.

The most striking colors of the day were, of course, the bride's honey-gold hair, worn loose, and the exquisite cream-colored lace of her veil and gown. Looking like a fairy tale princess, her train had a magical, graceful drape and movement. She radiated deep joy and happiness as she moved through the colors of her long-anticipated day.

Turtle Back Zoo

The Turtle Back Zoo in Essex County, NJ, is filled with engaging and aesthetically pleasing exhibits, but one of my most vivid memories is a giant pig named Arbuckle. This dude(?) was 800 pounds easy, and lumbered over to us at the "Essex Farm" exhibit. I have never seen a pig this big, and wondered, how do those pointy (relatively) petite hooves hold him up?
We were in this area of the world to visit the seamstress's mecca, Fabricland, in North Plainfield (where I lived from kindergarten to fourth grade). Mom used to drag me to Fabricland, but I hated it then--love it now. It's NJ's largest fabric store, after all. Anyhow, after driving past our old house and my old school, I thought it would be fun to visit the zoo in East Orange. This was a popular destination for Girl Scout trips, school trips, and playdates with friends. I remembered going there, but no specifics. On one of these trips I learned about carsickness; not me, but my seatmate. Ew.

The zoo is not huge, but the exhibits were terrific. The first 'wow' was the prairie dog exhibit. It looked like a landscaped playground thing for kids, and we were going to skip it. Then I noticed the prairie dogs and the plexi-glass lookouts with real kids heads sticking up in them, among the prairie dogs!
We were there for feeding time and got to see the dogs eating carrots. the zookeeper explained to Fred (who talks to everyone, everywhere) that they like orange foods the most: carrots, sweet potatoes, oranges. (I learn a lot from Fred talking to everyone everywhere.)

Next up was the Wild New Jersey exhibit I had read about online. This was interesting, but the animals are old news and the exhibits ordinary. But look at the cool shot of the Bald Eagles:This Australian Budgerigar (parakeets to us yankees) aviary was a stroke of genius. The pastel-colored birds fly around, perch, and eat seeds off sticks purchased by zoo visitors for $3. Kids and adults alike got a bang out of walking around the aviary with parakeets attached to their seed sticks. I was so mesmerized by the birds and the people interacting with them, I hardly noticed the noisy, sticky kids and their younger siblings' enormous strollers. Fred, who has infinite patience with rugrats, had reached his kid-saturation level while I was still admiring the scores of beautiful birds and their willingness to eat seed from strange people. Now that's an engaging display!Also part of the Australian exhibit were kangaroos and wallabies. These guys move fast--I tried to capture them boinging around on video, but that proved too much of a challenge.The Asian exhibit featured these graceful cranes, a red panda, lots of bamboo, and a waterfall.The Cape May County Zoo (mentioned in some earlier posts), has Capybaras, too. These are the world's largest rodents. We hit the Capybara paddock at feeding time, too. They seem like gentle creatures; really big hamsters.
Then the reptile house...
My photo of the giant python with the huge lump halfway down did not come out, so we will have to be satisfied with this sleeping bat photo.

And right at the entrance to the zoo, some of the newest residents, penguins! We got to see them swimming in their bright blue water when we entered, and their parting gift was this nice group pose.