Is there a more beautiful bit of foliage than that found in the Japanese painted fern?
14
May
2026
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May
2026
A Violet For Your Thoughts
Bane of our lawn’s existence, I still have a soft spot in my heart for these little violets that still manage to break through in the spring despite all the treatments. When I was little, behind our family home was a little stretch of woods, and behind the black iron gate of the pool, a swath of these violets had naturalized and provided an enchanting carpet that was lit up with purple and white violet blooms each spring.
The variegated white and purple variety was far more ubiquitous, but I always coveted the more rare pure violet blooms like the one seen here.
Boys didn’t pick violets in forests when I was little; I was a strange creature that way, and I saw no shame in it. Under the spell of spring beauty, I spent my afternoons walking in the forest, entranced and enchanted by the plants and the light and the slippery salamanders that hid under the larger rocks.
That I’m weighed down by your beautiful
Collapsing underneath your perfect
Drowning in your wonderful
And I’m letting you sink in
It’s, it’s almost unbearable
I’m suffering inside your magic
Love you something terrible
And I’m letting you sink in
And I’m letting you sink in
A violet for your thoughts seems a more precious deal than a penny.
I would always take that deal.
Anything for a flower, always more pretty than a penny, even if they didn’t last.
Maybe because they didn’t last.
14
May
2026
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May
2026
Bashful Bells
It is their scent that usually alerts me to their bloom before I see them.
Convallaria majalis, better known as lily-of-the-valley (despite the fact that is in no way a lily of any sort) is currently perfuming the garden with its heavenly aroma, and does so in a way that almost shy. Its bell-like blooms dangle mostly just below the tops of the pretty foliage, bashfully hiding their faces from prying eyes. It’s a plant I understand better than most.
It also carried great nostalgic significance – my Gram loved lily-of-the-valley – she’d use the fragrance in her soap and lotion, finding comfort in its sweetness. My love for my Gram inevitably spilled over into a love for lily-of-the-valley. Yes, they are invasive in conditions they enjoy, but the foliage is handsome throughout the dogged days of summer, when some fall victim to drying out or decay – these keep going until the frosts of fall, when the foliage turns ghostly pale before almost evaporating into paper-thin tissues.
A battle between these and the sweet woodruff would make for an especially lovely woodland war, but so far our swaths of each are removed from one another. There’s enough war in the world right now.
These happy blooms, and their accompanying fragrance, remind me of Gram, of being a boy in the spring and happening upon them in my solitary adventures through the backyards of neighbors, of finding them bleeding into the woods and stealing a few pips for my own garden.
13
May
2026
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May
2026
#TinyThreads: An Insignificant Series
“We all create stories to protect ourselves.” – Mark Z. Danielewski
What have I gotten myself into?
13
May
2026
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May
2026
Living Slow
At no other time of the year do I try to inhabit the present moment as much as spring.
It all moves so swiftly once the warmer weather kicks in (assuming that will happen by the time this post goes up).
And all I want to do is stop, pause, and take in all the beauty around me.
I know it won’t last, and I want to remember…
13
May
2026
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May
2026
A Giant Lilac Post
Hidden among this spring’s collection of lilac-themed posts, a song surfaces, breaking through the din of the food hall at Moynihan Train Hall as I find myself departing New York after a Mother’s Day weekend on Broadway with Mom. It’s been decades since she first brought us to New York to see ‘Peter Pan’ when I was just a kid, and though our roles have flipped somewhat (with me planning and steering us around the city as best I can) it’s still fun to see shows with the woman who instilled a love of theater from an early age.
When I was a kid I built a kingdom
There in my bed
Filled it with wisdom
And all of my friends
They were like superheroes
We’d go outside and play in the garden
I’d shown my eyes and give ’em a warning
And they’d run and hide while I counted down to zero
And forever I know I won’t stop dreaming, won’t let go
A few years later, when I was in middle school, Suzie and Missy joined us for a trip to New York, where we saw ‘Jerome Robbins’ Broadway’. A little older, and on the verge of knowing everything as teenagers, we thought we were shit as much as we thought we were the shit. Simultaneously uncertain and entirely sure of ourselves, we walked around the city like we were untouchable (except for the lady who patted me on the head and said my hair was so softy and shiny).
I know we’re older
Carrying the world upon our shoulders
But I know that forever we’ll be young and bold, oh, we’re full of hope
I know I know, I know I know we can be giants
Somewhere, I know there’s a world that’s waiting out there
For you and I to shine like we are made of gold, we were made to glow
I know, I know, I know, I know we can be giants
We can be giants, Oh, we can be giants
We can be giants
Yeah, I know I know, I know I know
We can be giants
A couple of years after that, Suzie and I and our Moms were back in New York for a pair of shows that remain favorites: ‘Lost In Yonkers’ and ‘Six Degrees of Separation’. Full-frontal male nudity with our mothers was not on my bucket list, but we checked that box that trip. Suzie and I were growing up (a floppy dick bouncing around on stage does that to a person…) and in our friendship I found a certain strength and stability that I didn’t sense with anyone else.
When I was a kid I was a dreamer
My room wasn’t big, my house wasn’t either
But I had enough love to fill up a city
And all of those nights I watched the stars
They lit up the sky, filled up my heart
I won’t let go
By the time I was in college, Norma Desmond and ‘Sunset Boulevard’ had taken hold of my psyche, and Mom and I were back on Broadway seeing Glenn Close in her Tony-winning turn. The next year we saw ‘Master Class’ with Zoe Caldwell as Maria Callas – diva-dom was still calling to me in delusional grandeur, and it would be a little while until I could take myself out of the scenes to enjoy from afar; I always felt things too keenly, too deeply, for my own good, and for my own safety. But growing up changes that, no matter when it happens.
I know we’re older
Carrying the world upon our shoulders
But I know that forever we’ll be young and bold, oh, we’re full of hope
Yeah, I know, I know, I know, I know we can be giants
Somewhere, I know there’s a world that’s waiting out there
For you and I to shine like we are made of gold, we were made to glow
Yeah, I know, I know, I know, I know we can be giants
12
May
2026
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May
2026
#TinyThreads: An Insignificant Series – Boston Edition
Running on Newbury Street is definitely a choice.
One made mostly by buffoons, especially when a single block over there’s hardly any pedestrians.
12
May
2026
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May
2026
My Favorite Carpet
Galiuum odoratum, more commonly known as sweet woodruff (love that name), forms a handsome carpet if you give it space and semi-shady moist conditions. Some might say it’s a little too aggressive, and I can’t disagree – I just happen to love it so much I don’t mind a little expansive colonization of the beds where it lands. It works especially well in a woodland setting, where it might roam free, producing these little white blossoms at the most beautifully tender time of the year. The flowers almost feel like an added bonus, because the foliage is so handsome in its own right.
We have several patches of this, and I’m planning on transplanting several clumps to fill in some tricky bare areas – places where tenacious aggression is actively encouraged. Gardening is a battle – some might say a war – and troops must be deployed where they are needed most.
12
May
2026
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May
2026
Confirmation Accessories
For the semi-stylish Uncle acting as Sponsor for his nephew’s confirmation, these shoes by John Fluevog fit the footed bill, while a fragrance in Frederic Malle’s line called ‘Uncut Gem’ provided a fresh jolt of cologne. Both of these items I only wear for special occasions, and the confirmation of the twins certainly constituted that.
Spring is the season of rebirth, of new beginnings, of a renewed sense of purpose and life.
I’m not sure I’m doing spring correctly this year, but it’s all good. Once the weather settles a bit, and once that sunny warmth arrives with summer, the heart will quiet itself, the nights will allow for sleep, and the journey will continue.
11
May
2026
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May
2026
#TinyThreads: An Insignificant Series
The puppet here was one of the scariest things in my childhood, but I survived, and nobody comforted me when she wreaked her terror.
Gen X is just made differently. Don’t fuck with us.
11
May
2026
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May
2026
May’s Magic Manifests in this Recap
Reaching the almost-mid-point of a thus-far rather chilly May, the birds and the bees and flowers and trees have still been putting on their annual show. Nature hustles to catch up to its own delays, and for now I pause to enjoy the coolness because by August we’ll likely be melting and wishing for relief. Live in the present moment, and remember what the days were like in February. On with the mid-May weekly blog recap…
Our lone Dazzler of the Day was Ben Cosgrove.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: non-functional decorative buttons are often the sign of a hobbled mind.
A cat story. Me-ow.
Pink and pea-like floral bridge, not to Terabithia.
A lilac spring comes finally into its own.
A low-key wedding anniversary glowed quietly in Boston.
Paving the way for peonies via the tulips.
Abstract floral accident. Whoopsie-daisy.
Primary colors in Boston.
Back on Broadway with Mom.
Have you ever seen a woman with her fly down?
A Mother’s Day post for my favorite one.
Big mistake. Big. Huge.
10
May
2026
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May
2026
A Lilac Bouquet
Almost everyone loves lilacs – some common trigger of childhood nostalgia and spring’s ephemeral enchantment – but not everyone knows how to cut them for a bouquet. Lilacs are one of the trickier ones too, ever-ready to droop and fall in mere hours, but they can last if you follow a few helpful tips.
First, go out and pick your lilacs first thing in the morning, ideally before the sun has started to beat down and take away some of the plant’s moisture. If you can’t manage that, wait until the evening, when it’s had some time to replenish its fluids.
Second is how to strip the stems – I usually make two vertical cuts in a cross, about two inches into the branch’s bottom. That’s usually messy enough to strip some of the bark off in the process but if it doesn’t, peel some back manually. That should allow for maximum intake of water through the bottom of the branches. Finally, remove most of the leaves, as they will take away from the water pull to the flowers (they also tend to wilt no matter how fussy you get about the stems).
Usually this is enough to get you a decent vase life – sometimes you have to give it a second go, so repeat the process if they start wilting in a couple of days. Otherwise, simply inhale and enjoy.
10
May
2026
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May
2026
#TinyThreads: An Insignificant Series
Remember that year I tried to wish all the mothers I knew on social media a Happy Mother’s Day?
That went as well as I should have expected but didn’t.
10
May
2026
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May
2026
A Mother’s Day Post
One of our happier holidays, coming at the happiest time of the year, Mother’s Day arrives when Mother Earth is at her most full and beautiful – all promise and hope of summer lying just ahead, and oodles of lilacs and peonies about to burst forth in perfumed splendor. When I was a little kid, I’d go out on the Saturday night before Mother’s Day, sneak up the sidewalk to the large stand of ancient lilacs near the top of our street, and stealthily pull off a few branches of blooms. Hurrying back home with this stash of stolen flowers, I’d carefully and quietly slide in through the side door of the kitchen and put them in a vase, where Mom would find them first thing in the morning. Along with a hand-made card, this was the extent of my gift-giving at that young age, and it was the most I could do.
These days she gets tickets to Broadway shows, but it’s the lilacs that I remember most fondly. Happy Mother’s Day, Mom – I love you.
09
May
2026
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May
2026
Music for Not Sleeping
Spring nights are the salvation of the sleepless. I don’t mind being awake when the nights stay warm early into the morning, or when a warm front arrives in the evening and everything feels suddenly tropical. Here’s one for the insomniacs and sleep-deprived, those who find themselves unable to sleep because their minds are too bright with something else. It’s Ella Fitzgerald’s rendition of ‘Black Coffee’, a bluesy little song to help anyone through the night.
I’m feeling mighty lonesome
Haven’t slept a wink
I walk the floor and watch the door
And in between I drink
Black coffee
Love’s a hand me down brew
I’ll never know a Sunday
In this weekday room
Their’s something noirish in the underside of this music, lying just beneath the surface, insidious like the disappearing tail of a cigarette’s smoky trail. A diabolical piece of music that seeps into the darkest corner of the night – shadow of shadow of shadow…
I’m talking to the shadows
1 o’clock to 4
And Lord, how slow the moments go
When all I do is pour
Black coffee
Since the blues caught my eye
I’m hanging out on Monday
My Sunday dreams to dry
Scary music, not the silly stuff of Halloween, something more sinister, slinking through the spring like a snake, slip-slip-lisp-slip snake-talk…
Now a man is born to go a lovin’
A woman’s born to weep and fret
To stay at home and tend her oven
And drown her past regrets
In coffee and cigarettes
A cup of cold coffee sits on the table in the cold light of morning. Gray and muted, a different kind of noirish, and a more menacing one, because the morning is always the more menacing.
