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One of the more intensely cultivated patches of earth in Boston, if not New England. We found them on an unguided, "where the heck are we now?" tour of Boston around June 15, whilst looking for local food production. Some 100 little patches of dirt stretch for a block in the midst of an Asian community in Boston's south end. For more: http://curiouslylocal.com

The fireworks were provided by Macy's. Security courtesy of the city of New York. Somebody won the Nathan's Famous Franks Hot Dog eating contest by downing almost 50 weenies. Tens of thousands of people lined the banks of the Hudson from 75th St. down to 25th. Many came as early as 4 pm to claim their spots, and the river was crowed with tour boats. Helicopters raked the air; the George Washington Bridge was gridlocked all day long as trucks crept past the security checkpoints coming into the city. Around 9:30 pm the crowds around us in the riverside park at 72nd St. stood, craning to catch a glimpse of the fireworks. Seeing nothing, they began to gripe. "What a rip-off. You'd think Macy's would have put up fireworks high enough for us to see. What a gyp. Yeah, we've been here since 5, and all we can see is the backs of peoples' necks." But five minutes later the bombs bloomed over the river and the crowds exhaled in unison in only the way crowds can do. Oooohhhh. Ahhhhhh. I am less comfortable in crowds than many of my fellow human beings. When they exhale in unison, I think about jumping into the water.

New Yorkers turn an elevated railroad into a walk through the canopy of the urban jungle. For other curiously local perspectives go to http://curiouslylocal.com

So they did it again. The crew of friends blew into Warner Saturday afternoon from the Four Directions, kicked around a few ideas, pulled what they needed for props and material out of the 35-year-old treasure trove malingering in Jesse's mom's barn, and by 1 pm Sunday they were jiving down Main Street, Warner, on their way to another win.

It's been a quick year, and here we are again in Warner, NH at the Fall Foliage Festival 2012, once more on the streets as Jesse McNeil and friends take over the town.

So, it's almost March, but it's been a long, deep winter, eh? Here's five minutes of footage I filmed at D Acres of NH, a permaculture farm. No, D Acres is a great place with a lot of wonderful people, but that does not mean spring arrives any earlier. This footage is from 2011. I'm working on the documentary about D Acres, called The Root for Food. For information on the progress of the movie, check in with me at http://curiouslylocal.com or follow me on facebook. George Packard

There's a strange diaspora of people with ties to Warner, NH and the Warner Fall Foliage Festival parade and Jesse McNeil and his mother's big farmhouse in lower Warner and the huge attached barn that is crammed with the artifacts and detritus from theatre productions and float-making that have settled into its haylofts and horse stalls since the mid 1970s. The diaspora gathers (as many as are able) once a year on a Saturday in early October to quickly and arfully put together a float for the next day's parade, and to comport themselves with a traditional antic foolishness that, float or not, is its own reward. Jesse himself seems to be making a habit of traveling from where he now lives on Orcas Island in Puget Sound to New Hampshire in a new way every year. Past years have included crossing the country on a moped, a tiny airplane, and this year, on a clunker mountain bike. Not everyone in the diaspora is so dedicated. And speaking of dedicated, this little film is dedicated to those members of the FFF tribe, across the country and the globe, who couldn't make it this year. See you next year? For more curiously local gleanings, why not visit http://curiouslylocal.com

A brief glimpse into the state of mind of your blogger as he brews a batch of beer on the gas grill late in the afternoon in mid-August. The bittersweet days of late summer; the song of crickets; the low, slanting yellow light. Thoughts of winter. Listening to Prairie Home Companion in spite of his better judgment simply for the company.