One day in the blur that was
last week, a car with a sign reading "David Ortiz for
President" passed me in the new lane on the suddenly
wider Rt. 3. The new reality began to sink it. I half
thought the Big Dig might suddenly finish itself on
Thursday morning. Such is the power of the Red Sox to
disturb the universe. I'm liking this separate reality a
lot and I'm really enjoying the new lane on Rt. 3.
In yesterday's parade, Manny was
carrying a sign reading "Jeter is playing golf today.
This is better!"
It's a warm Indian summer day in
Red Sox Nation, or at least the region of Red Sox Nation
in the Greater Big Dig Area. I have no idea whether it's
Indian summer in Tashkent or Baghdad or Kabul or wherever
Red Sox Nation may dwell.
At Colt State Park, we saw the
first buffleheads of the season where ducks replace
baseball as my reason for living. The males' magnificent
white head patches shone brilliantly in the afternoon
sun. A few great egrets and a great blue heron caught
fish right and left. A flock of 4 to 6 greater yellowlegs
made so much noise it was obvious why their common name
used to be telltale. Some cormorants, huge numbers of
black ducks and herring gulls along with a few great
black back gulls and two birders talking in Portuguese
completed the birding picture.
What a glorious October.
