These DC posters continue to refresh themselves on electrical boxes associated with traffic lights. Portraits in the Palisades are coming down with bad cases of LICE .
An earlier rendez-vous:
As the Havoc search continues, I was called today by a neighborhood man trying to retrieve his cat. Apparently the feline has been spotted in a neighbor’s basement window and its imminent release is being anticipated. (News Update Jan. 10, 9am – after police get involved,
Goose the cat is released) In the meantime, I provide footage of a beautiful animal trying to avoid human adulation/intervention:
I took advantage of the meteorological conditions today – between the first two skaters on Thursday afternoon and the hordes to follow on Saturday, some of today’s Friday skate:
and on Saturday, Gus gets a ride
The art studio, formerly known as the Palisades Museum of Prehistory building, apologizes for the new aluminum coil on the chimney – for now it’s function without form.
Jan. 7th, 20015
We visited James’ shrine in the woods today and set up a temporary disc golf course through it. Despite his bear-in-woods hibernation, the artwork looks fresh and the grounds exceptionally tidy. I might have to strap the critter cam on a tree to capture the activities of this nocturnal creature.
Although house size continues down the path of greater magnitude, the ever increasing scale of construction never ceases to amaze me. This single-dwelling (according to the permit) construction on 30th Street and Normanstone Drive symbolizes the voracious appetite for ever more cubic space. The house as an investment obviously influences the archictural priority of maximizing buildable space.
Through a little online investigation, the mogul moving into this compound made his fortune from government contracting and has a history of political sponsorship. The public notice permit noted that the public land committe has yet to rule on the owner’s bid to acquire adjacent public land. Considering that the owner is a big political donor, I doubt the transfer of public to private land will garner much attention. However, enough questions about Council Member Mary Cheh’s manuevering to support a similar public-private transfer to the Klick’s on Chain Bridge Road may bring more attention to the issue. As a surprise in what was considered a done deal, the National Capital Planning Commission is having a hearing on the transfer of land in the case of Chain Bridge Road public alley closing, January 8, NCPC.
As architecture bumps out to the end of property lines, public space will continually feel the pinch from the encroaching homeowners/investors looking to maximize cubic feet.
Last week, both Lynn and I were surprised to see a dog walked off-leash which closely resembled Havoc. The dog lives around the corner and is commonly walked past the area of the video camera. I’m afraid it’s likely the dog that was captured on video. I tried to take some photographs of the dog and match it against the video images. To me, it looks like this is the same dog.
Here’s a dog that’s out late chasing foxes. Could this be . . . Havoc? The time stamp on the video is 2:39 in the morning, and the location is between Sherier Pl. and Potomac Ave.
A few minutes before the dog shows up, two foxes are milling about the pond.
Another neighbor brings me this specimen found near the Potomac.
The stone itself seems to be siltstone, but varies greatly in appearance. The base resembles Savannah River while the general form seems to be morphing towards a Piscataway point. Some online research indicates the point likely belongs to the Guilford tradition. An interesting online paper entitled, “Mysteries of the Archaic’s Guilford People” ruminates on the people’s unique points:
What was it that caused a people whom we have chosen to call Guilford to use such distinctive lanceolate projectile points over a substantial period of time — choosing to ignore the notches and stems and flutes of earlier cultures?
That so many point types were popular for hundreds of years is a pretty bewildering phenomenon in itself. Our prehistory remains, frustratingly and seductively, mysterious.