It did occur to me that going to a venue such as the Heritage Museum and Gardens might not be the best choice for a weekend visit. But it was supposed to be such a nice day, and I hadn’t been out for several days before, so even realizing that it was ‘kids day’ didn’t stop me. Kids got in free on Saturday, and lots of activities were set up for them to enjoy while they were there. Maybe everyone had as much trouble with the maps as I did, because yes, we entered together, but as I walked the paths I had no problem seeing the gorgeous landscapes and taking pictures without lots of people in the shots. And I started taking pictures before I had even bought my ticket. I was attracted to the flowers, but as I looked more closely at the flowers it was the bees that caught my attention, and then the butterflies, and even a little moth. 
It was the carousel that I had spotted on the map that I had set out to see. But there were numerous paths intersecting each other, and signs pointing this way and that way, enough so that I kept getting distracted. Almost right away I heard a waterfall off to my right. I attempted several pictures but quickly realized that there was a lily pond at the bottom, and yes, there were paths to go there. So I set off down the hill to take pictures, hoping there would be dragonflies. And yes, there were dragonflies, but I got ridiculously excited to see the little turtles on the lily pads. When some kids showed up I think I totally forgot that I’m not a kid and got excited to point out the turtles. That got the kids excited, and they all were standing precariously close to the rock edge of the pond, switching positions, trying to see. And when I spotted a frog on a lily pad the excitement level went up a bit more. Now they were quite excited to be pointing out things to me, and for several moments I was that five-year-old self I’ve been looking for. Then I noticed one of the moms standing beside me and I had to apologize since they were probably wishing the kids were watching a little more calmly. She said it was fine. I thought it was fun. ‘Kids day’, in more ways than one.
I was down the canal and on the other side last winter when I was attempting to take a sunset picture with the railroad bridge standing behind the Bourne Bridge. Now I had found the railroad bridge itself. Not only that, I was hearing a train whistle and I got excited to think that the bridge would come down and we’d see a train come over it. I had missed it by just a little a few weeks ago when I was sitting outside having dinner with a friend not far from that location, and here came a train right behind the restaurant. Hardly worth taking a picture, but I tried.
I had several nice conversations with other observers over the idea of whether a train was heading our way or not. Turns out it wasn’t. One gentleman was from the Pacific Northwest and he said he’d been on the east coast for a year and he loved it. Wasn’t sure he wanted to leave. Another man was able to identify the mystery critter that ran across the path, from the rocks at the edge of the water and into the brush. It was a mink, he said. I’ll take his word for it. No picture, sorry. And lastly there was a woman who was from the area and had experience with riding the trains that used to travel in the area in the summer. But, as usual, the conversation took this twist and that twist and we wound up talking about quilting, and living alone, and making do with tiny houses. Every now and then I would look up and see a sailboat, or a tug boat, or I’d think about the scenery beyond the railroad bridge, and take a few pictures. Eventually it was time for her to get back to her bike ride, and I headed back to the pop up, quite pleased with the day’s events. Nice talking with you Charlene…
The wake that they created caused waves that caught these people off guard. I had been watching them plucking things from among the rocks at the edge and collecting them in their bucket. Mussels was the consensus of the people I spoke with as we enjoyed the day. 
Fat dragonflies were zooming past me also, teasing me because they weren’t landing anywhere to give me a photo op. I took a ridiculous number of photos just into the air in hopes that burst mode would give me an image, it didn’t. But they did get me to pay attention to the hillside behind me with its flowers.
Then I got interested in a little bird in the small tree right at the roadway. It was singing it’s heart out but I had to hunt to spot it. Merlin suggested several types of sparrow, but I decided that it was a Song Sparrow, for obvious reasons.
I spent a good bit of time looking for this bird, and taking photos, and when I finally thought to look back at the canal and see if anything was going on I got a surprise. This was what was going on…
Yes, of course it made it under the bridge, but I still had to watch and see for myself, in case it didn’t. Nothing much seemed to be going on after that, and after taking a few more flower shots, including a butt shot for a friend of mine, it was time to move on.
The bus tour driver had pointed out the Hood milk bottle as we cruised to the next stop. And the yellow boat where they reenact the Boston Tea Party, throwing plastic bins of tea over the side and then hoisting them back in again. He had lots of interesting things to point out that proved too difficult to photograph. Like the glimpse down an alleyway where Boston Latin used to be. Boston Latin is the oldest public school in the country and several founding fathers graduated from there. We passed a spot of green among the buildings and it turned out to be a very old cemetery where three of the signers of the declaration of independence are buried. He even pointed out a bar where Sam Adams used to hang out, directly across the street from the cemetery where he was buried. He said you can have a cold Sam Adams while you pay your respects to an even colder Sam Adams. Lots of history in not a lot of square footage in Boston.
A Snowbird's Life Through the Lens 