shotgun booth

75 years old and going strong. Florida Avenue Grill.

Generous satisfying portions. Menu. 1100 Florida Ave NW, Washington, DC 20009

home port

Watermen have been oystering from the Callis jetty in Town Creek since 1957. Earlier this year the jetty sold. The idea was, the new owner might could provide the watermen a place to work from, continuing a 60+ year tradition. Hasn’t happened yet. Watermen have been told, at least for now, to move on.

barges and dumpster
The watercraft currently tied up at Callis’ jetty are largely utilitarian. Barges. Can you distinguish them from their land cousin, the dumpster?

Missing the watermen.

tree sale today

Tree sale today.10:00 a.m. to 2 p.m.
Location: Thomas Jefferson Center for Historic Plants at Tufton Farm, 1293 Tufton Farm, C’ville 22902
“When we plant trees, we plant the seeds of peace and hope.”
― Wangari Maathai
Trees $5 to $10.


There are people in local government. You ask them to do A, and they go out and do A-Z and do it beyond all expectation. Gensic, Mahon, Poncy, Scala are that kind of people. Wish we had such a crew whose total job focus was the urban forest and Rivanna corridor.

the stage

Charlottesville matters
All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms;
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion;
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.— W.Shakespeare