Traffic Cones? What’s that About?

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A tight cluster of bright orange traffic cones surrounding a fresh sinkhole in a Boston street, with a red car parked nearby.

What’s With All the Cones?

Well, it’s official. Boston has been invaded. Instead of New England, we have become New Scotland. The Tartan Army has managed to bring Boston to its knees without a single shot fired. Nope — they did it with kilts, bagpipes, and a contagious party spirit. They came, they saw, they partied, and Boston loved every minute of it.

But what is it with the traffic cones?

Around here, we have plenty of cones. They sit in potholes, they mark construction, they gather in mysterious clusters on sidewalks. But suddenly they’re adorning every statue and monument in Boston. Even Mrs. Mallard and her brood are not immune.

These Scots are like heat‑seeking missiles. They search out and find even the most obscure statues, and let’s face it — Boston has many. From George Washington in the Public Garden to Robert Burns standing proudly in the Fens, they’ve all been “coned.”

But what does it mean? It must mean something, right?

The Real Story Behind the Cones

The whole tradition actually goes back to Glasgow in the 1980s, when locals started sneaking a traffic cone onto the head of the Duke of Wellington statue outside the Gallery of Modern Art. Every time the city took it down, someone would climb right back up in the middle of the night and put it on again.

What began as a bit of late‑night mischief turned into a full‑blown tug‑of‑war between the people and the authorities — a tiny, harmless act of rebellion that basically said, “We see your authority, and we raise you one bright orange cone.”

By the 1990s, the cone wasn’t just a prank anymore; it was a symbol of Glasgow’s humor — irreverent, stubborn, and proudly chaotic. When officials tried to raise the statue’s plinth to stop people from climbing it, Glaswegians protested so loudly the plan was scrapped. The cone stayed. It always stays.

And from there the tradition spread across Scotland — Edinburgh, Dundee, Aberdeen — until coning a statue became as Scottish as whisky, bagpipes, and arguing about football — soccer to you, mate.

So welcome to Boston, Tartan Army.

We’ll join your party, drink the beer — it’s our beer after all — dance to your bagpipes, and happily share your cone obsession with our statues.

 

Update

Scotland was defeated in their match with Morocco — a hard‑fought loss. They’ll now move on to face Brazil in Miami on Wednesday, June 24. Sadly, that means it’s time to bid farewell to our lively, outgoing visitors.

And if the cones weren’t enough, the Tartan Army left us with something even better: gratitude. One visitor posted a heartfelt thank‑you to Boston and all of New England, saying how welcomed they felt here. It turns out they didn’t just bring fun and joy — they brought a touch of class.

Hot Time Summer in the City

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Swan boat cruising the Public Garden lagoon on a sunny day, passing under the little suspension bridge everyone loves to photograph.

Summer Finally Arrives in Massachusetts

The weather is beautiful. Summer is finally here. Massachusetts has finally shaken off the dreary, rain‑filled days, and everything feels fresh again. The Public Garden is in bloom, the trees are lush, and the Swan Boats are once again cruising the lagoon. It’s the perfect time to explore the city.

Planning a Trip to Wolf Hollow Sanctuary

I’m trying to arrange a visit to Wolf Hollow Sanctuary in Ipswich. That’s a bit of a hike from Taunton and may turn into a car‑rental day, but I’m exploring my options.

One avenue I’m checking out is a Custom Tour with GoWithGuide US — which is exactly what I’d need for a Wolf Hollow trip. I checked the web page for their Boston Guides and they have options but nothing like Wolf Hollow. I’ve sent off an inquiry and will keep you posted on what I find out.

My Long Quest to Photograph a Wolf

I first heard about Wolf Hollow a few years ago when I was on a photography quest for wild animals. I’d photographed deer, bear, moose, and of course the little guys — chipmunks and squirrels. In Wyoming I added pronghorn and bison to my collection. South Dakota gave me those adorable prairie dogs.

 

After much chasing and tracking, I stumbled onto the elk migration (again in Wyoming) and got one of my favorite photos.

A pair of Bull elk

 

But I never even spotted a wolf. While in Yellowstone, I always seemed to be one day behind the pack.

The New Jersey Detour That Never Happened

Eventually I heard about Lakota Wolf Sanctuary in New Jersey of all places and started planning an overnight trip: drive down one day, take a photography tour the next, then drive back to Boston.

It never happened. Severe winter storms shut down the sanctuary, and after several attempts the trip got pushed to the back burner — where it stayed.

Discovering Wolf Hollow in My Own Backyard

Then someone told me about Wolf Hollow — a sanctuary right in my own backyard! I actually drove up there once and found it, but they were closed. Always do your homework — check times and days so you aren’t disappointed.

Then life got busy, COVID hit, and I just never made it back.

Time to Try Again

Now feels like the right time to look into it again. This is how my trips and explorations usually start: slowly, with a spark of curiosity, and sometimes they take forever to get off the ground… but eventually, I get there.

I’ll keep you posted on the progress — if any — on this adventure.

Affiliate links are included in this post. If you make a purchase through them, I may earn a small commission. Thank you for helping keep my adventures (and this blog!) going strong.

 

My Little Indoor Garden

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The "Sprout" AeroGarden with lush edible greens, romaine, parsley and dill

Small Changes, Big Impact

Life is full of little changes, and sometimes those small shifts add up in surprising ways. Take water, for example. I’ve been buying bottled water for years — Poland Springs was my go‑to. Taunton’s water is fine, but after growing up with well water, I never fully embraced drinking from the tap.

One day, my upstairs neighbor watched me lug in yet another case of bottles and casually asked why I didn’t just get a water filter. At the time, I brushed it off. But when I was laid off, his suggestion came back to me. Bottled water is expensive, and suddenly I was looking for ways to cut costs.

The Switch to Brita

I asked my AI partner which filter tasted closest to Poland Springs. The answer: Brita. Since I drink a lot of water, I skipped the pitcher and went straight for the 27‑cup Brita dispenser. It fits perfectly in my fridge — about the same space those ten bottles used to take up.

I bought it on April Fool’s Day, and that was the last time I bought bottled water. It works, it tastes great, and it paid for itself in the first 30 days. So when I started having trouble finding fresh romaine for my salads, I wondered if I could make a similar switch with lettuce.

Enter the AeroGarden Sprout

I ordered the smallest AeroGarden — the Sprout — because I didn’t want to spend a fortune or bring more clutter into my newly decluttered condo. It’s a compact hydroponic garden with a built‑in grow light. And yes, that light is bright.

I mentioned setting it up in my 5/23 post, The Midnight Gremlins Have Arrived. At first, I thought the glow might be messing with the cats’ sleep cycle. They’ve adjusted… mostly.

Planting the First Pods

The Sprout holds three pods, so I started with:

  • 1 Romaine
  • 1 Parsley
  • 1 Dill

Setup is simple: drop the pods into the holes, add water and the plant food, plug it in, and wait.

Three weeks later, the romaine has reached the baby‑lettuce stage. I can snip a little for a sandwich, but it needs another week before it’s salad‑ready. The dill was supposed to be a placeholder, but it’s grown into a plucky little feather‑palm of a plant. The parsley is still shy and hiding.

 

To keep a steady supply of romaine, I should really pull the dill and start a second romaine pod. Then, once parsley finally shows up, replace that with another romaine too. Two romaine plants on staggered schedules should keep me in fresh salad indefinitely — no more soggy brown leaves at the bottom of a bag.

And honestly? It’s nice having a bit of greenery.

The Cats, Of Course

There was one small problem: both cats were fascinated with the romaine once it sprouted. I ended up moving the Sprout from the dining room counter to a corner of the kitchen. In its old spot, I set up a little cat‑grass garden.

Banner lost interest quickly.
Balboa, however, has claimed it as his personal farm.

Growing More Than Lettuce

I admit I wasn’t sure this tiny indoor garden could produce enough romaine for a real salad, but it’s well on its way. It’s funny how one small change — like switching from bottled water to a Brita — can lead to another.

Who knows what I’ll try next?
Maybe tomatoes.
Maybe strawberries.
Maybe both.

 

A Wee Mallard in the Tartan Army

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Meanwhile in the heart of the Boston Public Garden, Mrs. Mallard becomes  The Tartan Army’s newest recruit! Jack, Kack, Lack, Mack, Nack, Ouack, Pack and Quack join the festivities.

 

Even Mrs. Mallard and her brood have joined the Scottish takeover of Boston. Honestly, could it be any other way?

Bronze Mrs. Mallard statue in the Public Garden wearing a traffic cone during the Scottish festivities.

In True Scottish Fashion Mrs. Mallard Donned a cone!

But don’t look now — the Tartan Army has a new recruit. Mrs. Mallard heard the bagpipes and said, ‘Aye, I’m in.’

 

Wild Encounters: From Squirrels to Whales

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A great egret snatches a bit of hot dog, its yellow eye bright against the blurred green marsh.

When the Words Wander

Some mornings the words just pour out of me, and other mornings — like today — they wander off to do their own thing. I sat down wanting to write about a picture of a squirrel. Just a little gray squirrel. Nothing dramatic. But nature has a way of turning simple moments into something special.

A Squirrel in the Morning Light

It was early. The cats had dragged me out of bed, and I was opening the blinds over the sliders to the deck. The sun was just coming up, the air crisp and soft in that way only early morning can be. And that’s when I saw him.

He wasn’t racing along the fence or scrambling up a tree. He was perched perfectly still on top of an old tree stump — one of those storm‑fallen trees that had been trimmed back for safety. It made the perfect pedestal. The rising sun lit him from behind, turning his tail into a glowing halo. Whether you like squirrels or not, you had to appreciate that pristine moment.

The Scramble for the Camera

He was too far for a phone shot, so I reached for my Nikon. One quick look at the settings and… no battery. Of course. I dug into the camera bag, found my spare, and swapped it in. I haven’t used that camera in a couple of years, but muscle memory kicked right in. I was sure I’d missed the moment — but no. My little friend was still there, still posing. I got one shot off, and then he was gone, down the stump and into the brush. Banner wound around my feet, completely uninterested in the tiny drama unfolding outside.

Why Nature Photography Hooks Me

But that’s nature photography. Woodland creatures don’t care if they look fat or skinny or if they’re smiling. They don’t pose. They don’t wait. They just go on doing their little woodland things. That’s what makes it fun — and challenging.

The Ones That Get Away

I’ve had so many moments like that. At the Daniel Webster Wildlife Sanctuary in Marshfield, I’ve seen turtles, deer, birds… and once, three otters ran right across the path in front of me and dove into the pond. No picture, just a perfect memory. That’s how it goes. In nature, the moment happens fast and often without warning. I rarely catch those surprise encounters — they’re over before my brain even registers them.

 

The Rare Gifts

Bear Up a tree

Then there are the rare gifts. Like the time I was driving a dirt road in Wyoming and came upon a little bear in a tree, happily eating berries. He didn’t care that he had an audience. I got my shot that day.

The Long-Awaited Moments

And then there are the moments you wait years for. I went on whale watches every year from the mid‑70s on — Massachusetts, Alaska, Hawaii. Decades of trips. But I never saw a whale breach until just a few years ago. First a baby humpback in Hawaii, then an adult off Cape Cod. And once I finally saw one, it was like the universe opened the floodgates. Suddenly I was seeing breaches everywhere — and because I was ready, I finally captured one of my favorite photos.Breaching Whale

Why I Keep Picking Up the Camera

I have so many stories like that — some with pictures to show for them, some that live only in my memory. But every one of them is a wonderful little interaction with the natural world. And that’s why I keep picking up the camera.