As the storm raged offshore in Lake Erie, my coworker and I explored the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, the Christmas Story House, a late night comedy club, and tried to find the brighter side of this gritty, industrial city on the northern edge of the United States. More photos, including that infamous leggy lamp, on the flip.]]>
Now there's a lamp. If you remember the cult classic movie "A Christmas Story", which followed the adventures of a blond boy named Ralphie pursuing his dream of a Red Ryder BB Gun, then you remember this lamp. And this house. A fellow from San Diego purchased the home used in the movie--it's in central Cleveland in a run-down neighborhood called Old Brooklyn--and turned it into a museum to the film. Eventually he had to buy a nearby house to hold the actual museum, while restoring the movie house to look as much like the film as possible. For $5 a guide will take you through the house and tell you what's what. An attraction like this probably wouldn't last long in LA or San Francisco, but here in Cleveland, what else are you gonna do? During peak months, the guide tells us, 2,000 people a day went through the house. The nearby neighborhood is obviously struggling; a few houses down, an HUD auction notice is taped to a door. Other houses are boarded up. A few are nicely kept, and the neighborhood bar is still in business, but this neighborhood is as good an example of northern Ohio's economic struggles as any. Still, the buildings are historic, and distinct.
The lakeshore was empty and cold and from our spot in a suburb southwest of Cleveland we could see the skyscrapers rise over the lake a few miles away. The wind ripped through at thirty miles per hour, driving the windchill into the teens and blowing snow all around us.
A fellow in a green jacket disappeared into the blowing snow.
More Cleveland tomorrow...Rock & Roll Hall of Fame.]]>
The forest here was hit hard in the storm a couple of weeks ago that produced an F2 tornado. In addition to the tornado, which hit west of here, 70-80mph downdrafts snapped many trees in the forest. But 95% survived, and the colors are beginning to show.
I'm a sucker for fall color. I must have MORE! MORE!
The Clemens gardens sit on a hill above the river (Yes, a sizeable hill. They are few and far between up here...). It's done up English-style, meaning tons of flowers, nice symmetrical displays, and quaint fountains. It is immaculately tended, rivalling in quality, though not in size, the Butchart Gardens in Vancouver Island, BC. More after the link...]]>
Fountains are placed along the spine of the rectangular gardens area and every corner is full of flowers.
PS--Comments are now working. Typekey accounts are accepted, or you can comment without as I've taken some anti-spam precautions.]]>
ps--still working on getting the comments back.]]>
It was a sinister operation all around. I was driving innocently along highway 8 through a thickly forested area, and suddenly a sign appeared, advertising "adoptions today!". What kind of sick monster would put up a sign like that I may never know. Nevertheless, in I went, against the very core of my better judgement.]]>
There in the front room was a set of cages containing no less than 10 adorable little kittens. Flanked on either side there were, I can swear to you now, Fire-Breathing Kitten Adoption Enforcers. One of them even feigned a limp to throw me off.
In the center cage were two siamese-mix kittens about 12 weeks in age, wrestling joyously, imagining the fun they would later have disembowling whatever gullible human was stupid enough to take one of them home.
That would be me. Ahem.
The little fluffy white thing made out of the same material as a superball--remember those? Big in the early 80's with the playground set, but I digress--literally reached out of the cage, grabbed me, and forced me to the ground. She then hypnotized me with her Siamese cat mind control tricks and that was the end.
So here she is, home with me, annoying the living shit out of Harry, the 6 year old Himalayan who thought he owned the place. More on that later.
More...]]>
The hail didn't hit here, but elsewhere hail over an inch and a quarter in diameter was reported. The weather phenomena, known as a Derecho (means straight ahead in Spanish) is a straight-line of high winds and thunderstorms that advances quickly in a south-easterly direction. This is what radar looks like When Air Attacks:
Lake Harriet and Lake Calhoun in Minneapolis offer some of the loveliest walks you'll find in a city, beautiful lakes, lush foliage, and a wonderful arrangement in which the bicyclists and roller bladers are on one dedicated path, and you're on another one, so you don't get run over. Someone give the genius who thought that up a medal, please.
There is only one drawback to these idyllic settings, and that's the air traffic. Yesterday the drone of landing planes at nearby MSP was deafening. But perhaps different wind patters would have them coming down over a different part of the city on some days.
Bathers didn't mind, as kids splashed in the water, the bandshell stuck out like a fairy castle in the background, and the whole thing seemed like a different universe from the Minnesota I saw at twenty below in January.
Sailboats abound. There must have been fifty of them on the lake yesterday.
