A tell-tale mark of a wonderful weekend with friends is the little bit of heartbreak that accompanies the hours immediately after their departure. Like a dog left behind, I find myself going back to the front door and looking out to confirm that their cars are gone, then revisiting the spaces where we laughed and talked and ate. That sadness used to wreck me, but now it serves as a welcome reminder of how much my friends mean to me, and how vital they are in seeing us through this moment in history. The world is scary these days, and if you are lucky enough to have friends you’ve known for decades – something that seems to be more and more rare – the only way to make it through is to do it together.

Ann and Missy have been with me since childhood – Missy is probably the first non-family friend to have known me longer than anyone other than Suzie. Whenever I’m with them, it feels like I’m home, and in this Island Summer, we made the weekend into a badly-needed bit of escapism, where laughter and silliness reigned, and our souls were renewed and replenished.

The past few years have brought great change and tumult for all of us, and only relatively recently did it dawn on us that we need more get-togethers to make it through all the awfulness that growing older simply throws at you. There is an ease and comfort that lifelong friends provide which is healing in so many ways. It is release and relief and joy all at once, and the longer you’re in that state, the more you heal, the more you feel happiness, and the better life becomes. Even when the outside world is crumbling around us, this past weekend will stay as part of my heart, and I’ll access it to remember there is goodness and kindness and chosen family around us – we need only to reach out and invite them in.

Until our next get-together…

Coming in just under the wire, and mostly due to my own complete ignorance of what’s musically hitting these days, this is ‘No Broke Boys’ – a contender for the song of the summer, and I couldn’t even tell you why. Is this what amounts to a summer song these days? While at odds with the musical vibe of our Summer Island theme, it does have the silly lightweight ear-candy elements that makes a proper summer song.

No broke boys, no new friends
I’m that pressure, give me my 10s
Ain’t no lie, ain’t no shade
Fuck on me, then you know he paid
Look so good, makes no sense
Badass bitch with my badass friends
No broke boys, ain’t no shade
Fuck on me, then you know he paid

Sound the alarms, strike up the sirens, there has been an addendum to my 50th birthday wish list – and it may change some priorities as it aligns with a fall theme (that has yet to be announced, so don’t go overanalyzing anything just yet – trust in the process). Tom Ford has released his latest addition to the Private Blends collection, and it’s part of the magnificent Oud series: this is ‘Oud Voyager’ and it sounds absolutely vital for what’s coming up this fall.

While the Amouage Purpose 50 is still the number one priority for the big, boffo gift (and it’s on sale at Neiman Marcus here for 15% off right now!) there is still room for one more Tom Ford addition, and the literature for ‘Oud Voyager’ sounds enchanting, particularly its inclusion of a red peony note, which means something more to me:

‘Oud Voyager moves the perception of oud into the hyper-saturated floralcy of jewel-like reds and purples found in geranium and peony. Geranium absolute, with its rosy, fruity vitality, brings an element of freshness. Cardamom and saffron oils lend an enveloping warmth. Citrus freshness intertwines with the bold vibrancy of pink pepper notes for a dazzling embarkment on an olfactive journey. From the shadows, a red peony accord emerges.’ – Tom Ford

Now, I do not yet know where one can purchase a bottle of the ‘Oud Voyager’ but if there happens to be a wait beyond my birthday, I’m fine with that kind of rain check. Anything to delay the onslaught of 50 is welcome. (Friendly reminder: the Amazon birthday wish list may be found here if you want a slightly more reasonable range of options. I did say slightly…)

I’m also aware that even though this is a big one, my tastes run on the exorbitant side of things, so here’s some cheap(er) alternatives if you don’t think I’m worth it:

This Tom Ford Oud Wood body wash is practically a steal!

The Tom Ford Oud Wood moisturizer is a bit more…

Since it’s not a Private Blend, Tom Ford’s Bois Pacifique is relatively reasonable, and would make for a lovely office scent.

This Tissot watch in gold is calling to me, but its price point seems to be moving in the opposite direction of what I promised as reasonable… however, if we’re reaching for the stars, this gold Bulova is just as welcome.

Accoeries and fragrance aside, let’s get back to basics with these wardrobe selections, all from Macy’s for ease of shopping and delivery by August 24:

These pink Polo pants in size medium are part of the more relaxed fit and look I’m going for (at least, my waist is insisting on going for).

I want these Adidas Terry pants in a medium because they look so comfortable I don’t even mind the logo (and they are on a killer sale).

Sometimes the weird pants become my favorite pants, and these black striped pants in a 32″ waist might just fit that bill.

While I cannot quite reveal what this fall’s theme will be, I’ll give you a tantalizing hint that these Gurkha trousers (in 32″ waist) will fit into it quite nicely.

And again, when in doubt, revert to the Amazon wish list.

The sun is on the move, its slant shifting slightly and reminding that fall is around next month’s corner. Goldenrod has begun its blooming season, a sure signal that we’ve crossed the Rubicon of summer. I let out a silent sigh of resignation and relief. The gardens can begin their wind-down now, the ferns can let go of their bright green, and the petals of the cup plant can fall freely from their lofty perches. What has already been a very relaxed year in the garden can mature and ripen into the architectural form that will see us into fall and winter. I look past the leafy walls and imagine the bare bones of the place, then stop myself from getting too far ahead when there is still so much beauty to be embraced.

A few daisies give good face in the mottled and moody afternoon lighting. Shadows creep into August in beautiful and insidious ways. The garden is still very much alive, but I sense its fatigue, even as the butterfly bush and hibiscus are just beginning their respective shows. And so I step back, admiring them from a distance, taking in the beauty of the summer’s day, with one eye warily on the ending, and the beginning again.

Mercury remains very much in retrograde motion, as the past week of rollercoaster emotions will attest. A few entirely unwarranted attacks had me both hysterical and hurt, but family and friends saw me through it, which is the best way to make it through the Mercurial madness. Just about one week to go before this particularly-sticky episode comes to a close. Until then, hold onto the nights, hold onto the memories… and delve into this weekly recap.

It was a week of haunted memories.

A memory of a musical desert rose.

Sometimes being right is a lonely business.

A purple floral mystery curtain.

Gaslighting 101.

Warm summer pinks.

My newest fragrance: ‘Pacific Chill’ by Louis Vuitton.

Just swallow.

A fine-feathered friend.

It’s been two years since Dad departed.

The saddest turn of summer.

The Divine Diva Tour: A Fairy’s Tale resumed its online posting schedule, with a post that had me feeling all sorts of pretty, oh so pretty.

Throw in a couple of waves of amber vain, and it’s an all-American LGBTQ+ explosion.

My one and only toxic trait.

Red of bud and leaf.

Mr. Russell gives good shirtless face.

On Sunday, the Speedo comes off…

Everybody in the pool!

Let’s get soaking wet!

Speedos off, attitudes on!

Summer fun, and done!

Happy August!

One more exclamation point and I am out of here!

Our household is obsessed with ‘The Gilded Age’, and while I’ll always be Team Bertha, Mr. Russell deserves praise of his own for this sort of photo shoot. Morgan Spector is the man (and body) beneath those finely-tailored period suits, and as we enter the final episodes of this season, we can celebrate that it’s just been renewed for Season 4. Here’s hoping the Russell family can keep it together until then.

The redbud is one of my favorite trees – as much for its flaming spring floral show, as for its handsome foliage. Newer varieties incorporate a striking red into their new leaves, extending the season of interest. Something about these always refreshes the landscape in my eyes – the foliage stays delicate rather than hardening off as many do, but also manages to remain intact.

The heart-shaped leaves add whimsy to their beauty, as does the shifting veining as the leaf matures. Some things get better with age. May that hold true for me this month…

As if there was just the one… HA!

If this is toxic, then I’m slipping under…

Happy Saturday Night!

It was never the actual last day of summer that had me mourning – that officially came after we were already well into the school year anyway. It was those first few days when you could feel the shift in atmosphere indicating the turn – a morning that was suddenly breezy and lacking in heat and warmth which suddenly felt like fall. These days sadly came in early August – when our last full month of summer was beginning. It was a reminder that fall would follow soon enough – and in these hasty last days of my 40’s, I feel time moving even quicker.

The gardens have just begun the shift. I’ve been watering the ostrich ferns almost daily in the hope of keeping them green for as long a possible, but this is the month when I stop trying. Nature will govern the decline and inevitable arrival of slumber for the plants; in August I put down the sword and let the battle go. The ferns have put on a lovely show, even if it feels shorter than usual, and I’m sure they are worn out from sticking it out in the glorious heat and sun we’ve had. There comes a point when you must accept the fact that nothing in the garden lasts forever, that there is a season for everything, and the season of slumber, while still a ways out, is coming eventually. It’s a tragic waste to allow that outcome to shade the summer that remains, but I’m not quite evolved enough not to be bothered by it.

Sitting in the church where I sat during the last few weeks of Dad’s life, I recalled the days of that sorrowful summer. I cried a lot then. It was an intentional outpouring of grief and sadness and gratitude all at once, a necessary part of mourning that I finally, after years of suppressing such emotions, allowed myself to feel and experience and inhabit. Somehow I understood that if I didn’t allow it out then, it would remain with me much longer, growing into an ache that might be dull, but would never dissipate. So I cried. In the church. Out on the street. In my car. Out in the backyard. In the shower. Wherever and whenever grief would rear its head, I would face it and acknowledge it and feel it, letting it wash over me, sometimes overwhelming me, and knowing that it was necessary. More than that, it was welcome – it made me realize that though Dad had gone, his love remained – how else to explain such intense feelings of loss and sadness?

Today, exactly two years after he died, I’m not forlorn or destroyed by it. I miss him, of course, but there is a sense of peace and beauty that I felt in his last weeks here that still remains. In so many ways, I still feel my father with me, and it has been a comfort making that happen and keeping him as part of my life.

When I’ve had a rough day at work, I feel him with me.

When I feel attacked by strangers or people I’ve known my entire life, I feel him with me.

When I feel elated and joyous and busting with excitement over something, I feel him with me.

When I talk to Mom or spend time with the family, I feel him with me.

When I sit down to my daily meditation, part of my mantra is still this: breathing in, I know am alive – breathing out, I know my Dad is alive within me.

Two years after he departed this world, I still feel him with me.

One of our favorite visitors – the yellow finch – has been frequenting the stands of our cup plant, as its flowers are already ripening into seeds. These seem to be happy birds, if I may get all anthropomorphic on your ass, and they always bring us joy at seeing them this time of the year. They’ll stay until the fall, picking away at the towering seed pods until there are none left.

I like how their striking yellow color matches that of the cup plant’s flowers – a doubly-cheery explosion of sun-like glory. It’s the ideal color palette for the end of July, just as summer will begin its own ripening.