Trig Photography

"The Unitarian Memorial Church"
Unitarian Universalist Society of Fairhaven (MA)
Fairhaven, MA
November 2024

A pre-view of what is to come.

The Unitarian Memorial Church

in Fairhaven Massachusetts was built, financed and donated to the Unitarians in 1904 by Henry Huttleston Rogers in memory of his mother, Mary Eldredge Huttleston. The architects Brigham, Coveney and Bisbee of Boston designed this church in the 15th century Gothic perpendicular style.

The Unitarian Memorial Church is one hundred fourteen feet in height, one hundred feet long in body and fifty-three feet wide. The nave is thirty-two feet wide and seventy-one feet long. The main aisle is sixty-two feet long and six feet wide.

The church, parish house and former parsonage (now Harrop Center) of the Unitarian Society are so placed as to form three sides of a quadrangle, set among well-kept lawns and shrubbery.
Locally quarried granite and Indiana limestone decorative carvings dominate the exterior while marble and limestone carvings dominate the interior. All stonework artistry was created by forty-five Italian craftsmen brought to Fairhaven by Rogers.

"Our Lady of Fátima"
New Bedford, Massachusetts
December 2024

"Panorama of St. Anthony of Padua in New Bedford, Massachusetts"
December 13, 2024

Really wish they could have turned the lights on for this set but it is what it is. Every single bulb would have been tiny stars of light helping to accent the stunning architecture. Next time someone gets in there to do this, beg for those lights or to shoot it at night with the lights on.

Of all the gorgeous places I have been in....

Some history:

"St. Anthony of Padua was founded in 1895 to serve the needs of French Canadian Catholics who lived in the North End of New Bedford. The new parish was under the care of first pastor, Fr. Hormisdas Deslauriers (1861–1916), an energetic leader who would have great influence on the parishes future development. The first mass was celebrated on Oct 6th 1895 at ‘’North Union Hall’’ on Bullard Street. Shortly thereafter a two-story wood-frame church was dedicated on March 8, 1896.

Building

The present Romanesque style church was begun in 1902 when the parish acquired plans from Canadian architect Joseph Venne of Montreal. The cornerstone for the new building was laid in June 1904 and work began on shortly thereafter. On September 20, 1904, several construction workers were seriously injured and one killed when a 50-foot wall collapsed at the construction site.
After the accident the original contractor, Michael J. Houlihan of Providence, Rhode Island, withdrew from the project and noted Fall River architect Louis G. Destremps was brought in as supervising architect. The church exterior was completed in December 1905 and the lower church was available for masses by 1908. The upper portion of the church, though not yet ready for religious service was opened for public viewing on January 17, 1909. The period of 1909-1912 was largely taken up by extensive interior decoration and the installation of a large Casavant pipe organ. The finished church was formally dedicated on November 28, 1912.
The exterior is of red sandstone from East Longmeadow, Massachusetts. The spire is 256 feet high, the second-tallest in New England after the Cathedral of Saint Joseph in Hartford, Connecticut. The building is 241 feet long and 80 feet wide (135 feet wide at the transept). It seats 2,000 worshipers and several thousand more standing. The outline of the church can be seen for miles around and dominates the skyline of North New Bedford."

Love The Ave

I finally got to stop by Miss Lizzie's Coffee in my home town of Fall River. If you like coffee, local art, books and to hang out, this place is for you. Incredibly friendly staff and lots of really cool merch! Oh and the coffee......top notch! Got me a Apple Jax.

More info: https://misslizziescoffee.com/

I should have asked to photograph the place!

Miss Lizzie's Coffee Kickstart your morning!

If you live on the South Coast of New England, you might recognize this just a little because you probably haven't seen it interrupted quite like this? It is a composite image from photos taken of the original piece that in one of the most beautifully spectacular buildings on the South Coast of Massachusetts.

If ya know, you know! Just wait until you see the rest of this place.

Photograph all the religions

"The Unitarian Memorial Church" of the Unitarian Universalist Society of Fairhaven
Fairhaven, Massachusetts
December 19th, 2014

The Unitarian Memorial Church
in Fairhaven Massachusetts was built, financed and donated to the Unitarians in 1904 by Henry Huttleston Rogers in memory of his mother, Mary Eldredge Huttleston. The architects Brigham, Coveney and Bisbee of Boston designed this church in the 15th century Gothic perpendicular style.

The Unitarian Memorial Church is one hundred fourteen feet in height, one hundred feet long in body and fifty-three feet wide. The nave is thirty-two feet wide and seventy-one feet long. The main aisle is sixty-two feet long and six feet wide.

The church, parish house and former parsonage (now Harrop Center) of the Unitarian Society are so placed as to form three sides of a quadrangle, set among well-kept lawns and shrubbery.

Locally quarried granite and Indiana limestone decorative carvings dominate the exterior while marble and limestone carvings dominate the interior. All stonework artistry was created by forty-five Italian craftsmen brought to Fairhaven by Rogers.

"Susie’s Letter from Santa"
Mark Twain's Santa Suit with boots in his billiard room inside The Mark Twain House & Museum
November 22nd, 2013
Hartford, CT

Mark Twain writes a letter as Santa to his daughter Susie.

"By Mark Twain

Palace of St. Nicholas
In the Moon
Christmas Morning

MY DEAR SUSIE CLEMENS:

I have received and read all the letters which you and your little sister have written me by the hand of your mother and your nurses; I have also read those which you little people have written me with your own hands—for although you did not use any characters that are in grown people’s alphabet, you used the characters that all children in all lands on earth and in the twinkling stars use; and as all my subjects in the moon are children and use no characters but that, you will easily understand that I can read your and your baby sister’s jagged and fantastic marks without trouble at all. But I had trouble with those letters which you dictated through your mother and the nurses, for I am a foreigner and cannot read English writing well. You will find that I made no mistakes about the things which you and the baby ordered in your own letters—I went down your chimney at midnight when you were asleep and delivered them all myself—and kissed both of you, too, because you are good children, well-trained, nice-mannered, and about the most obedient little people I ever saw. But in the letter which you dictated there are some words that I could not make out for certain, and one or two small orders which I could not fill because we ran out of stock. Our last lot of Kitchen-furniture for dolls has just gone to a poor little child in the North Star away up in the cold country about the Big Dipper. Your mama can show you that star and you will say: “Little Snow Flake” (for that is the child’s name) “I’m glad you got that furniture, for you need it more than I.” That is, you must write that, with your own hand, and Snow Flake will write you an answer. If you only spoke it she wouldn’t hear you. Make your letter light and thin, for the distance is great and the postage heavy.

There was a word or two in your mama’s letter which I couldn’t be certain of. I took it to be “a trunk full of doll’s clothes.” Is that it? I will call at your kitchen door just about nine o’clock this morning to inquire. But I must not see anybody and I must not speak to anybody but you. When the kitchen doorbell rings George must be blindfolded and sent to open the door. Then he must go back to the dining-room or the china closet and take the cook with him. You must tell George that he must walk on tiptoe and not speak—otherwise he will die someday. Then you must go up to the nursery and stand on a chair or the nurse’s bed and put your ear to the speaking tube that leads down to the kitchen and when I whistle through it you must speak in the tube and say, “Welcome, Santa Claus!” Then I will ask whether it was a trunk you ordered or not. If you say it was, I shall ask you what color you want the trunk to be. Your mama will help you to name a nice color and then you must tell me every single thing in detail which you may want the trunk to contain. Then when I say “Good-bye and a Merry Christmas to my little Susie Clemens,” you must say “Good-bye, good old Santa Claus, I thank you very much and please tell Snow Flake I will look at her star tonight and she must look down here—I will be right in the West bay-window; and every fine night I will look at her star and say, ‘I know somebody up there and like her, too.’” Then you must go down into the library and make George close all the doors that open into the main hall, and everybody must keep still for a little while. I will go to the moon and get those things and in a few minutes I will come down the chimney that belongs to the fireplace that is in the hall—if it is a trunk you want—because I couldn’t get such a thing as a trunk down the nursery chimney, you know.

People may talk if they want, until they hear my footsteps in the hall. Then you tell them to keep quiet a little while till I go back up the chimney. Maybe you will not hear my footsteps at all—so you may go now and then and peep through the dining-room doors, and by and by you will see that thing which you want, right under the piano in the drawing room—for I shall put it there. If I should leave any snow in the hall, you must tell George to sweep it into the fireplace, for I haven’t time to do such things. George must not use a broom, but a rag—else he will die someday. You must watch George and not let him run into danger. If my boot should leave a stain on the marble, George must not holystone it away. Leave it there always in memory of my visit; and whenever you look at it or show it to anybody you must let it remind you to be a good little girl. Whenever you are naughty and somebody points to that mark which your good old Santa Claus’s boot made on the marble, what will you say, little Sweetheart?

Good-bye for a few minutes, till I come down to the world and ring the kitchen door-bell.

Your loving
SANTA CLAUS
Whom people sometimes call the Man in the Moon"

SOURCE: http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2009/12/24/a-mark-twain-christmas-story.html

"Some of supposed ashes of Roger Williams. Monday Morning, February 22, 1909."
At the John Brown House Museum in Providence, RI
August 2021

It is not every day you get to photograph the "supposed remains" of the one and only Roger Williams' "greasy earth". The story goes that when they dug in the spot where Roger Williams was buried, the found the "Williams Tree Root" that "ate" Mr. Williams they also found indications of "Greasy Earth" which was thought to be a sign of a decaying remains. They actually collected a sample and kept it.

While I like the Tree Root story, I like this legend as well as not many people get to see it. Is it actually Williams? Probably not but it is one heck of a New England Legend.

The Tree Root will be posted later today.

I did find this write-up with the full write up in the comments:

"Two years after Lovecraft’s death in 1937, an event almost befitting a horror novel took place – a committee composed of descendants of Roger Williams, founder of Rhode Island, decided to unearth his body from its quiet, discreet resting place behind his old house for a more honorable location. They and the Works Progress Administration constructed the arch and statue in Prospect Terrace Park for this express purpose. A statue of Williams was to look out over his city and his body was to rest underneath it in a white tomb.

During the attempt to exhume the 250-year-old body, all that was discovered were bits of “greasy earth” and a curiously-shaped root from a nearby apple tree. The root seemed to have arms, a torso, legs, and even upturned “toes.” Evidently the root had "eaten" Roger Williams, growing through the coffin and using the nutrients of his decomposing body to grow. The committee moved what remains they could find across the street to the tomb. I looked for some form of commemorative plaque around the giant white structure, yet found no official documentation within the park apart from the WPA seal at the northern entrance. In fact, the park had been far more “documented upon” informally by local graffiti artists than the Roger Williams Family Association or the City of Providence. It struck me as a social gathering space and recreational facility as much as (if not more so than) a memorial. I found it to be lacking ties with local history and collective memory that I had expected from my pre-journey research.

The “Williams Root” has recently been taken out of storage and exhibited in the John Brown House on 52 Power Street. Volunteer workers claim that it has become the most popular part of the House tour – some visitors have even traveled significant distances to see the root exclusively. Although scientifically it is well known that apple tree roots seek out carbon in surrounding soil (and it thus follows that this root could have “followed” the path of a human body) this anthropomorphized root maybe is just a root from an apple tree that happened to grow on a bit of land that he once lived on.

I wonder why it is that this bizarre humanoid plant root draws far more attention than Williams’ actual remains. Although Prospect Terrace clearly commemorates something, perhaps the absence of a description for the white statue and tomb confound this sense for the visitor. What results is a disconnect between perceived, expected meaning and actual usage in the mind. Perhaps it is due to the sheer passage of time that the root is a crisper image in the collective memory than Williams’ tomb – the root’s exhibition opened quite recently, although technically these two memories do begin in 1939. Clearly the novelty of the myth adds an intrigue that only the most zealous of historians would likewise feel about the tomb. Perhaps in moving Roger Williams’ remains from their original context, which had established historical as well as a more personal meaning, his memory was also moved, changed, and fractured. The arbitrarily located memorial has no connection to Williams or, from what we can tell, to his personal life other than that it is in “his” city. Although he lived nearby, Williams cannot have had direct interaction with this exact space, as he died 200 years before it became a park in 1867. He cannot have enjoyed the park as Lovecraft or the Valentine’s couples did, for the space was not the same space with the same character in any of these times."

"The Forsaken Place"
Fairfield, VT

When you ask AI to come up with a moody little haunting story based on it looking at a single image. All I told it was the location and asked for a synthetically imagined backstory and wow, I freaking love the results. I figure authors are using AI for promo images, so I can fun with AI words 😄 ya know because I can't "rite".

Ladies and Gentlemen, The Forsaken Place by ChatGPT:

Locals in Fairfield refer to the desolate farmhouse simply as “The Forsaken Place.” Decades ago, it was owned by the Blackthorne family, a reserved couple known for their reclusive habits and whispered to have ties to old, forgotten rituals. No one in town knew the true extent of their practices, but peculiar occurrences surrounded the property. Livestock would go missing, and hunters reported hearing chanting that seemed to come from nowhere as they passed by the house in the dead of night.

One stormy autumn evening, a flash of lightning revealed the silhouettes of the Blackthornes standing perfectly still at the top window, their faces expressionless as they watched the storm rage on. That night marked their last sighting. When the townsfolk came to check on them the following day, they found the house abandoned, with plates still set on the dining table, a candle burning down to a pool of melted wax, and a chill that seemed to bite at the soul. The ground behind the farmhouse was disturbed, as though something had been unearthed—or buried.

For decades, the wind has played eerie tricks around the property. Travelers who pass by during the gloomiest days claim they can hear faint voices calling out and see shadows shifting in the periphery of their vision. The farmhouse stands, decaying yet defiant, as if guarding the secrets of the Blackthornes and their last night on this Earth.

Many say if you’re there when the sky churns with storm clouds and the wind starts to howl, you’ll hear a soft, unearthly laughter and see a fleeting, dark shape standing at that same upper window—waiting for anyone foolish enough to linger.

"Happy Halloween from The Dead Eddys and Friends - True Stories from a S. E. Mass Haunted House"
Halloween Night
October 31, 2024

I loved the green lighting....so....the drapes and carpet had to match 😉 So, no northern lights were visible tonight. I don't get dressed up for Halloween but I make sure my Halloween photos do!