Vickie Lester, denizen of Hollywood, considers tin men and snowshoes…

Who cares if the sun doesn’t shine all the time?

Look at this! Hundreds of years of domestic architecture in a tiny city block.

While my beloved toils on a movie in Boston, I get to enjoy myself and be an unabashed tourist. What movie? I must tell you now, I can’t talk about it. There are rules about these things, for instance on this “mystery film” the call sheet clearly states any sharing of info or images on social media is cause for dismissal. Anthony Daniels has a few things to say about secrecy on films sets, and a life spent playing C-3PO. Read it — by clicking here — it’s most edifying.

And while we’re talking about sublime performances in a tin suit, let’s not forget Jack Haley, born in Boston in 1897, a man of heart, most memorable in “The Wizard of Oz.”

Now, where were we? Oh, yes. We were talking about me! I know I may have mentioned it before, but I love this city. While wandering around on a cool gray Friday I came upon a narrow residential alley (no cars) where I was captivated by the scale (human), and the history, and the architecture. Take these three buildings pictured above; the first with the exterior wooden detail was probably built very recently, the second house looks suspiciously like another home (this one in NYC) that dates to 1815-ish (but this one in Boston is a bit too perfect, maybe it’s a restoration, or a rebuild?) and the row of town houses at the end would have been built around 1880.

While I was trying to get all three buildings in frame a wonderful silver haired woman hesitated, so she wouldn’t step into the picture, and cautioned, “Beautiful now, but remember February!” We laughed, she knowingly, and I having read about the blizzard in the news.

Do they make down-filled jumpsuits? And I’ve always rather fancied a pair of snowshoes. Or, ice skating on a frozen Charles River… It all sounds very romantic in the summer, but at the first chill I’d probably turn into a Popsicle.

Have a happy Labor Day Weekend,

V.