We were fortunate the other weekend to catch the final performance in the debut run of Our Enemy’s Cup, a story of the French Resistance by local auteur Michael Nethercott.

In the picture, he is standing in front of the historically significant theater curtain (go to this page and search for Charles Washington Henry in the dropdown for more) at Guilford’s Broad Brook Grange. The curtain seemed to have a life of its own at times during the show.

The production had all the unevenness of a local amateur theater production. Still, I thought it was very moving. In these times, we do well to remember the perils of complacency, of resistance, and even of simple human decency when faced with an implacable enemy. During the show, we heard the news that Emmanuel Macron had defeated Marine Le Pen in the French presidential election, which came as a great relief to us.

We’ve run into Michael and his daughter Genna before, in her theatrical and literary pursuits. Most recently we drank a toast to his departed Uncle Pat on St. Patrick’s Day. He’s every inch an example of Brattleboro at its most Brattle’ish.

We had an especially vibrant double rainbow on Tuesday afternoon. It was neat to see my Facebook feed light up with shots like this one. 

Our accountant caters to both kinds of Vermonters with exactly two magazines to choose from. I flipped through them both and was more drawn to the one with the child soldier. 

as in a morning sunrise…

In Brattleboro, it’s ok to hold the traffic lights together with duct tape, as long as it’s heavy-duty black duct tape. 

With help from Chuck, the extended Providence clan, and former coworker Michelle, we hosted a fundraiser tag sale in the parking lot last Sunday. 

It’s a lot easier to argue with people over a couple dollars when the proceeds are going to a local non-profit. To keep it apolitical, we even let people choose: Meals on Wheels, the Humane Society, or a Rotary-sponsored medical mission to Cambodia. And the stuff that didn’t sell went to the thrift shop run by the local Hospice, which might have doubled the $500 or so that we collected at the sale. 

Neighbor Charles and I took a nice walk up Black Mountain the other day. He goes up there a lot, and has waxed thoughtful about the experience in his column Meanderings. 

Apparently these cairns were getting a little bit out control at the lookout point on top, and one day they were just not there anymore. But a few have been left in this little grotto on the trail up. 

We put a layer of stones into the little bed that separates us from the parking lot, and I got drive Corey’s new tractor… fun!
Someday I want to go to Diggerland.

Maybe this is a new theme. Or an omen.