Passover started last night, we’re in Holy Week, and we just passed the 150th anniversary of the Civil War’s start. And, for the last few days around here we’ve had scads of re-enactments of the battle that kicked off our Revolution.
Almost every day I drive by houses that Paul Revere galloped past on his famous ride. This pretty house in the picture is one such. It was owned by one Jason Russell, who was there on April 19th when angry British soldiers returning from Concord and Lexington swarmed from the woods to kill him and ten other men. These days it stands just down the street from the Turning Point Career Counseling Center and the Arlington House of Pizza.
I feel lucky to be born in this part of the country, as I imagine the people near that gorgeous national park at Valley Forge feel, and the people living near the battlefield at Gettysburg where the hair stands up on your arms when you see where they fought: how closely they fought, with such desperation.
Memories transform a place. Go find the house you were a child in and knock on the door. If they let you in and you get to walk around you won’t even see ‘what they’ve done with the place’ so busy you’ll be remembering how it used to look, How it used to smell when you were a child clattering down the stairs and banging out the door on your way to after-school fun. Memory transforms.
Another kind of transformation is taking place every minute these days.
Here is how some local waters looked just three weeks ago.
And here is how they look now, wearing a swan for a corsage.
We’re still waiting for the real green around here but it will come very soon now, that lush carpet of true spring. I speak of the grass, which Walt Whitman called the beautiful uncut hair of graves.