The Backyard Tourist, part 2

I'll never knock Philly for being grubby ever again. Can you believe these photos were taken inside the city limits? This is Wissahickon Valley Park, the north-west portion of Fairmount Park. If you can ignore the distant hum of air and road traffic and focus instead on the birdsong and wind in the trees, it really does feel like you're out in the middle of nowhere.

One of the trails takes you under the Walnut Lane Bridge, which is pretty awe-inspiring from this vantage.


After leaving the park one day, I walked halfway across it before I realized where I was. This bridge is only a hundred years old, of course, but there's something so majestic about it, like a Roman aqueduct. You're so far below the traffic that it's easy to pretend it hasn't been used in centuries.

Following the trail, there's a wooded ridge on one side and, on the other, Wissahickon Creek far below you. At the top of one of those ridges (Mom Rinker's Rock, according to Wikipedia) there's a statue of a man I took to be William Penn, with the word TOLERATION inscribed at the base (also according to Wikipedia: the statue isn't meant to be any Quaker in particular).


You know what this means? Seven years of good luck.

The Wind in the Willows, part 2

Especially for you, Pare:

And a better view of the stairs:

Can't even see the house from the street, but I want to live here so bad.

The Backyard Tourist

The Betsy Ross House at 239 Arch Street.

I'm from a town only twenty minutes or so outside Philadelphia, but I don't know the city as well as I should. My dad took us on family outings (the Art Museum, City Hall, the holiday light show at Wanamaker's, etc.), concerts in high school and college with Anjuli, and there was the occasional field trip to the Franklin Institute or where have you...so usually somebody else is doing the navigating.

Kate and Elliot were home last weekend, and we decided to have a mini-adventure in the city on Sunday afternoon. We didn't have much time, so we decided on the Betsy Ross House—we'd never been there before (surprising given that my dad's a history buff), and a visit only takes half an hour or so.

It was really neat to tour an unrenovated 18th-century house, and until you go you don't realize just how little you knew about the lady who designed and sewed the first American flag. I don't remember ever learning in school that she ran an upholstery shop, and that was why she was chosen for the job. Betsy Ross was an incredibly resilient woman: giving birth to seven daughters, widowed three times (twice before the age of thirty!!!), running her own business and surviving wartime Philadelphia and continual economic hardship.

Just around the corner is Elfreth's Alley, the oldest continuously inhabited street in the city (and it very well could be the oldest in the country). All the townhouses on this quaint little street were erected between 1728 and 1836. It's a magical place—very much like a mews I invented for Petty Magic.

And afterwards we went to Marra's, a South Philly institution. Marra's pizza is far and away the best I've ever had. The service is indifferent, but the atmosphere is wonderfully old-school Italian-American. Our dad used to take us here when we were kids.

(Best to get a plain pie though—the veggies are okay, but it's the plain pizza that's really excellent.)