The Thinking Cup

As humans, we form habits. As cafe dwellers, we build attachments. My own particular attachment in Boston is to The Thinking Cup. Two locations-one on Tremont Street and another on Hanover in the North End-make it all too easy for me to maintain this attachment and further my regard. But beyond the convenience of their two locations (Hanover street is pictured above), is an appreciation for the drinks they serve and the space provided to enjoy them. The combination of exposed brick and comfortable, tufted seating, along with tables adorned with newspapers of the past, do collectively inspire a beautiful union between my thoughts and the cup I drink from. So the name Thinking Cup is satisfyingly appropriate, almost as satisfying as what they serve so well. 

Nearby: Historic Salem

Salem is a place of many histories. The witch hysteria of 1692 is undoubtedly the most significant in our collective memory, but Salem was much more than Puritanical paranoia. At one point, Salem was the 6th largest city in the country, something of a shock when you actually visit the area today. As a once crucial center for the maritime trade, the city was like a younger sibling of Boston. That part of Salem history is preserved through the efforts of the Salem Maritime National Historic Site along with the Friendship, a replica of an East India trading ship which is available to tour. 

Naturally we also know Salem through Nathaniel Hawthorne's writings, and a visit to the the House of Seven Gables (pictured above) was a highlight of my excursion, so much so, that I have begun re-reading Hawthorne's novels with a newfound appreciation. To commune with the writings of Hawthorne is to grasp an indelible mood of our American past. 

But there is also Historic New England's Phillips House to visit and Pioneer Village, along with perhaps an over excessive amount of witch-related sites, not to mention the Peabody Essex Museum. 

There's comfort in Salem's expected gothic tone and even more pleasure by the surprise of colorful homes that you believe would be gray; and the visitor is reassured to find not only the reflected beginnings of New England in its streets, but also reminders of her subsequent development through the ages. 

Nearby: The Houses of Salem

 I was not fully prepared for the beauty of Salem. 

 When I left for Salem this past Saturday from North Station, I anticipated a typical exhibition of New England charm combined with an exceptional amount of paranormal kitsch. Without a doubt, there was quite a display of the latter (it is October, after all), but to my delight, I found such elegance in the streets that promised only a predictable quaintness. I found a wide range of early American architecture scattered throughout Salem's well-kept avenues, enough to keep any student of architecture satisfied. Perhaps my love for early America has me biased, but I left smitten with Salem, a place that felt even more impressive than nearby Concord or Lexington in terms of reflecting the early days of our country.  Even beyond Chestnut Street, affectionately described as "New England's Prettiest Street," I found style and significance.

 

A Lady Escapes: White Mountain Wonder

In early October, I take to the mountains. It is there, amidst a wilderness of peaks, that I can best appreciate nature's grand display of autumn color. Thus last weekend I drove north to the White Mountains yet again, where near 80% of the trees had turned.  The simple and relatively quick route to the White Mountains encourages my regular returns, but I am repeatedly struck by the beauty I continuously find, safeguarded in the old places and bursting in the new. The Kancamangus Highway was as glorious as ever, but stumbling upon the Silver Cascade waterfall and hiking to Ripley Falls (both in Crawford Notch) afforded such excitement and exhilaration that made me eager for more trips. Is it odd that one of my favorite parts about being a Bostonian is how easy it is to get away? 

Fall in the Fens

Fall has arrived in earnest. The mornings are colder and the evenings darker; scarves and sweaters are donned as the leaves begin to fall in the crisp autumn air, and Bostonians stop where they did not stop before, to take note of the colorful world around them. Here are weekend photographs of the Fens, as I made my way to a coffeehouse this past Sunday morning. The weather was appropriately overcast, so that no clouds could compete with the splendor of the trees. The Back Bay Fens are a perfect place to pause and observe the magic of New England's favorite season.

The Ivy World of Beacon Hill

This is the Beacon Hill of two weeks ago-it's stately buildings draped in magical ivy, preparing for the annual exchange from green to red. Now, fourteen days later, that exchange is well underway for the ivy and leaves of Boston, not only in Beacon Hill, but in each neighborhood. The sun rises later and later on our changing world and sets early enough for me to use my candles once more. So goes October in New England,  a time of balancing where we wave goodbye to summer with one hand and hello to winter with the other.