Hartford is a little bit of everything--old new, wealthy, poor, established, homeless, beautiful, strange.... I'm an outsider, though, and I have my escape route when I've had enough. Not everybody can say that. It's likely the fellow who slept on the edge of the bandstand is staying there whether he likes it or not. (How he slept like that and why he faced the morning sun I can't even imagine.)
At Center Church is a statue of the Rev. Samuel Stone, who fled religious persecution in England and became a founder of Hartford. He negotiate the purchase of Hartford from the Suckiag Indians (whatever "negotiated the purchase of" means), and now he's standing guard over the graveyard and pointing....
Back at Bushnell Park, where our sleepy friend wasn't so sore from a night on a concrete slab that he couldn't lie in on a Saturday morning, is the swan sculpture. A friend says it's obviously and definitely a swan, and I'll buy that because--well, he says so. But I see baleen. That's my problem, though, because it's a swan.
A great place to enjoy the day, one way or another.
My World Tuesday
Sandy Carlson Social