More cigarette cards from the astonishingly large digital collection at the NYPL. In honor of the Olympic Games. Right.

ca. 1888. A handwritten note on the back of the photo says, “Aunt Velma, she never married.” Everything about this image taps into my fear of female pattern baldness. Courtesy of my friend Kay who delights in all things odd. She found the image here. As an aside, when I was in grade school and high school we used to compete against Bucksport, Maine in certain sporting events. And, while I know this is a generalization, I remember those girls as not always being so nice. That said, I bet Aunt Velma is a peach.

Wow, I stopped dead in my tracks when I rounded the corner at 2nd Avenue and 72nd Street. Construction on the 2nd Avenue Subway is going full bore, and these ducts overwhelm anything and everything else around. They are huge and imposing and just a wee bit scary. The “blasting” sign showing a stick of exploding dynamite helped with the fright factor. I am fascinated by pipes and ducts and wires and any visible indication of our underlying infrastructure. Note to self: bring real camera because the iPhone can only do so much.

Unfortunately, there is no sense of scale to this photograph. Take my word for the fact that the wood pile stands at least as tall as myself. If not more. It’s a beautiful site to behold as one moves up the driveway to our house. And, even though this is a familiar form, it’s uncommon for the wood-stackers among us to deviate from tradition. My husband — sometimes a quiet renegade — is responsible for this totem to his hand split logs.

Delightful and slightly wicked drawing by the grandchild of the late H. D. Stephens, the creator of this flow chart. Talented gene pool!!