The Blue Hill Meteorological Observatory

I’ve lived in Massachusetts for a year now, watching the seasons change from week to week, month to month. My favorite place to observe this passage of time is Blue Hills, a large preserve a few miles south of Boston that serves as my natural retreat from the hustle and bustle. Whether I am hiking, jogging, or mountain biking on the 100+ miles of trails, I watch for the subtle shifts in color, the steady evolution of life through the seasons. From a largely brown forest in January, when pops of green came from tuffets of moss and stands of pine and hemlock. To February, when snow blanketed the forest floor and fell in clumps from slumping conifers. Then came the floods and the buds in March and April, as trees and grasses tried to break through the cold dampness. May brought warmth and an explosion of life, filling the forest with young green leaves, chirping birds, and bell-shaped blueberry blossoms. In June, the laurel blooms transformed my favorite trail into a lacy wonderland of white petals. July brought wild blueberries by the bushload, sweet from the sweltering sun.  The heat carried through August, and the park would be the perfect shady refuge if not for swarms of gnats and mosquitoes. Leaves began to turn with cooler weather in September, leading to a beautiful patchwork of yellow and orange by October. Wind, rain, and the first frost kicked off November, erasing the trails with an ankle-deep pile of colorful leaves. As December approached, the leaves faded to brown and flattened into the forest floor, my feet instead crunching on ice now as winter impends.

Now, I’m not the first person inclined to watch the seasons here – in fact, this very park is the cradle of American meteorology, historically speaking. In 1885, MIT scientist Abbott Lawrence Rotch founded a weather observatory on Great Blue Hill, a high point with panoramic views of the greater Boston area and Massachusetts Bay. From the stone tower, Rotch began what is now the oldest continuous meteorological record in North America, over 138 years of daily temperature and pressure readings, wind data, and other notes. In the 1890s, Rotch’s team pioneered the use of kitesondes for atmospheric profiling, using these results along with geometric techniques to develop an early understanding of cloud heights and movement. Some of the earliest weather balloons were released here in the 1930s, probing the upper atmosphere for the first time under a range of weather conditions. The highest hurricane windspeed over land was recorded here in 1938, a powerful 186 mph gust during the infamous Long Island Express.  Today, the tower is home to a large array of (mostly duplicative) instruments, automatically recording but manually analyzed by a team of volunteers for the best possible continuation of the record. Beneath the tower is a small museum, which is an interesting window into the history of meteorological observation for children and weather buffs alike. The view from the observatory is unmatched, an aerial view of Boston that can extend to Cape Cod, Narragansett Bay, and Mount Monadnock on clear days but usually just gives you an up-close-and-personal view of the clouds as they move and evolve overhead. In any weather, this is a very cool site to have close to home, and I am honored to participate as another data point in a rich observational tradition. 

Blue Hill Observatory

Skyline view in winter

Ponkapoag swamp pre-spring

Laurel path in full bloom

Lily pond in summer

Golden autumn

A Quick Trip to Quebec

A perk of living in New England is its proximity to many cool vacation destinations… and where better to go for a 4-day weekend in May than Quebec City?!  We simply hopped on I-93 north, wound through the beautiful White Mountains of New Hampshire, sped through the pastoral Northeast Kingdom of Vermont, and soon arrived at the Canadian border.  After a hassle-free set of questions from a bilingual blonde bombshell of a customs agent, then a couple more hours of gentle highway driving (with extra caution owing to some indecipherable French roadsigns), Veronica and I found ourselves crossing the grand suspension bridge over the massive Saint Lawrence River.  Over the next 3 nights and 2 full days, we would enjoy a perfect sampling of the city’s iconic viewpoints, interesting colonial history, and hearty Quebecois cuisine.

Upon checking into our vacation rental, we were immediately transported to the Old World, or so it felt.  The upstairs apartment was rustically furnished with antique wooden chairs and chests, complete with a plank floor and compact washroom. We could open up French-style windows to a view of the towering Ste. Jean-Baptiste church over the quiet one-way street in front, or to a communal courtyard in back.  The French influence was felt throughout our walking tour of the Old City: two glorious cathedrals both named Notre Dame, cobblestone streets, open-air cafes, even a street performer playing an accordion.  Beneath the famous Dufferin Terrace, we saw the origins of French influence at the ruins of the old Chateaux, an archaeological site turned museum chronicling the growth of the colonial seat of government from remote outpost in 1608 to a grandiose manoir by the mid-1700s.

The British colonial signature was all over Quebec City, too, mainly in the form of battlements and other remnants of war.  The Plains of Abraham, now a sprawling hilltop park, was the site of two major skirmishes in the French-and-Indian War and remains flanked by stout stone lookout towers.  We toured the Citadelle, a massive walled fort that the British built on the highest point overlooking the city.  The protective wall around the Old City has a Tower-of-London feel, with narrow graystone gates and cannons galore.  The historical animus against Anglophones has mostly disappeared from Quebec City, but these stone fortifications still stand out as an immovable reminder of a tumultuous past.

Perhaps the most prominent influence – and the one that makes Quebec City so unique – is distinctly Canadian.  It was Canadian urban planners who, in the late 1800s, transformed Quebec City from a military bastion into a world-class destination, adding the incredibly-photogenic Fairmont hotel above the Chateau de Frontenac.  The view of this landmark from all directions is simply stunning, and it is understandable why this is the world’s “most photographed hotel.”  It was easy to imagine being a well-to-do visitor in Victorian times, walking past the kiosks on the Dufferin Terrace, if not for tourists from all over the world wearing shorts and taking selfies.  Weaving through the throngs, we ducked into folksy art galleries and souvenir stores filled with maple products and accents of red flannel – exactly like Vermont except urban and French.  We tried the poutine in several traditional Quebecois establishments, the very best served under a rich venison tartare at La Buche, a restaurant with the ambience of a Northwoods trapping lodge right in the heart of the Old City.

Rental apartment was L’Vibe

Cathedral Notre-Dame

Townhouses at Vieux-Port

Boeuf-eater uniform

Cannons on the hill

Plains of Abraham

Chateau from below

Chateau from above

Majestic Dufferin Terrace

Picturesque street scene

Parliament center in bloom

Misty Montmorency Falls

The atmosphere of Quebec City is unmatched, at least in 21st century North America: a European-style walkable city with incredible views and interesting history to boot.  We had the perfect first-warm-weekend-of-summer weather to roam the streets, window shopping and photo hopping.   Tulips of all colors were in full bloom, brightening up the Parliament Plaza to its fullest French-revivalist splendor.  We mingled with locals in the neighborhood of Rue Saint-Jean, where locals young and old congregate for beer, tea, or dessert.  Despite knowing nary a French phrase upon arrival, I was positively stoked to nail my ice cream order in broken French, enjoying a sweet victory of raspberry sorbet in a decadent dark chocolate cone. The Quebecois people who we interacted with were universally lovely people, glowingly cheerful and exceedingly helpful as we communicated in some mixture of English, French, and pointing – in other words, they’re Canadian above all, dispelling any preconceived worries I had about tensions between Francophones and Anglophones here.

There’s so much more to explore in Quebec, our weekend was barely enough to scratch the surface. We spent a sunny Sunday just outside the city at Montmorency Falls, enjoying the roaring 270-foot cascade from the viewing platform, high-arching footbridge, and cable car (though the more daring way to experience the falls would be via zipline or cliff climb) – spectacular! We had a nice outdoor lunch on Ile d’Orleans, where pastoral farms and seaway views recalled deep memories of Prince Edward Island. I’d love to come back to experience the great outdoors in Jacques Cartier NP, the Saguenay Fjord, the Laurentians or the Eastern Townships.  Or to return in winter to slide down the Dufferin toboggan slope, enjoy the Old City decked out in Christmas decor, ice skate through the forest at Domaine Enchanteur, and more. Not to mention revisit the world-class city of Montreal, where I haven’t been since I was a 8-year-old picky eater. Anyway, this weekend in Quebec was so satisfyingly perfect that I’m sure I’ll be back to explore more!