The gardens went to sleep a long time ago, but some plants are still putting on a show. This sort of thing is too often discounted when most people plan their gardens. The winter scenery doesn’t disappear outside the window when you’re doing your dishes or sipping your morning coffee. On the contrary, winter reveals things that spring and summer and fall tend to hide.

Mostly it illuminates the structure of the place. The way that the branches of a dogwood cross and hold themselves in almost horizontal form, or the stalwart reeds of the fountain grass. The latter has held onto its fluffy seed plumes, and even in the roughest of storms it will hold onto such prettiness, usually all the way through to spring.

At first glance, it may look like just a stand of dead grass, but as seen here in the afternoon sunlight, it has the potential to turn into something majestic and wonderful. When given the proper lighting, a glorious azure background, and the unifying motion of the wind, it produces a spectacular show – one of the many secrets of a Northeastern winter.

They arrived on our front porch like some perfectly-hatched surprise Christmas gift – a dozen gorgeous eggs in a rainbow of shades. Our friend Scott recently posted a photo of his chickens on FaceBook, and I was so entranced I’m afraid I may have demanded delivery of their eggs, not expecting anyone to so graciously abide. Well, Scott’s a good egg, and oblige he did.

I brought them in out of the cold and promptly nestled them into a cloth-lined bowl for their portrait. Beautiful hues of brown and ivory and the palest blue played gorgeously against one another and with their earthenware vessel.

Newly-hatched farm-fresh eggs, he advised, didn’t always work best for hard boiling, so I’ve only been frying these up – and they have been heaven. I leave the yolk in decadently runny form, ready for that fork-piercing moment just before I run a piece of toast or kimchi fried rice through it. It’s a natural, sunny sauce that rivals any Hollandaise or Bearnaise. Many thanks to Scott for brightening our winter days.

And it was my fault for asking Suzie to bring the hats and party favors. Luckily she brought some fun boys too, and somewhere between the fondue and pistachio cake a good time was had by all. Our traditionally-eclectic New Year’s Eve menu consisted of the aforementioned Savoyarde fondue, and then a joint-main course of kimchi fried rice (topped by a perfectly-fried egg, courtesy of Suzie’s special pan) and a bowl of home-made pho (courtesy of eight hours of simmering).

This is the third year in a row that we’ve spent in such quiet, pre-midnight fashion, and I find myself enjoying this sort of evening much more than a wild and crazy party that would have us out until 1 AM. Old(er) age does that I guess, and I’m not sorry that it’s so.

Besides, I can’t wear this hat out in public. The balloon makes it too unwieldly.

Plus I’d be afraid a strong gust would blow me away Mary Poppins-style.

Though the first post of the year is traditionally a quiet one, this one goes big on bombast. When the world never seems to be living up to your dreams, that’s when you’ve got to be more yourself than ever before. And that I can do. I’m pulling on my big-boy sequin boots and shining for all the world to see. My delusions remain grand, my vision remains forward, and I’m inviting you to come along for this joyride through 2017. No matter what may happen, we’re in this together.

The first big news of the year: The Delusional Grandeur Tour has been extended! Originally I planned to end the thing in the fall of 2016, but there always seemed to be somewhere new to go. Then the news came that ‘Sunset Boulevard’ was returning to Broadway, and since that informed this recent tour it was only right that seeing the revival, with the original star who started it all, was part of it.

There are also some exciting new locations on the agenda – including my first jaunt to the Southwest, as well as Detroit (Rock City!) to see some newly-relocated friends. It will culminate with our annual Broadway visit, including the aforementioned ‘Sunset Boulevard’ stop and the dynamic-diva-duel between Patti LuPone and Christine Ebersole that is ‘War Paint’.

Merrily we roll along…

I’m a sucker for panda videos. I don’t know why I haven’t posted more of them. It all started with that sneeze surprise, and I’ve been hooked ever since. How can you fight such cuteness? You can’t. You let it wash over you and make everything a little bit better.

In the aftermath of the holiday season and all of its accompanying madness and mayhem, I resort to quieter practices and habits. There is no better way to do that than to indulge in a binge of ‘Downtown Abbey’ DVDs, courtesy of a fancy Collector’s Edition of the entire series, a Christmas gift from Andy. We’ve made it through the first two seasons already, and despite the World War that runs through its timeframe, it’s still so much more peaceful than whats on the news today. There is a meditative quality to the period aspect of the production, with its tranquil soundtrack and focus on manners and tradition over coarse realism.

Everyone has their favorite ‘Abbey’ character, and it should come as no surprise that the Dowager Countess, cunningly portrayed by Dame Maggie Smith, is mine. That said, I find myself relating more to Lady Mary, for other obvious reasons. As the oldest child of the Crawley family, she has a love-hate relationship with herself that is mirrored in all her interactions. Some love her unreservedly (Carson and Anna) – others think she is the devil incarnate (Edith and Mrs. Hughes). The truth is she’s a little of both. We all are.

With the drama of FaceBook and the Trump Trolls of Twitter, my interest and allegiance is slowly but deliberately shifting to Instagram for a social media fix. It’s a relatively drama-free space, and I’ve kept it as such by limiting those I follow to the ones who bring me joy and happiness in what they post. (If I wasn’t me, I’d probably not be following my account because I’m annoying as fuck. But, sigh, I am me and there’s no way out of it now.) As you can see from the “Best Nine” compilations from the last two years, my most popular posts are when I turn around and expose my naked ass. Hey, give ’em what they want. And then in between my ass I sneak in food and flower shots. (Well, not literally as that would get too messy, butt I digress…)

I don’t make New Year’s resolutions for the most part, and certainly nothing very concrete, but I do hope to spend less time on FaceBook and Twitter, and more on Instagram in 2017. You should too. It’s just more fun, and we need more fun this year.

@alanilagan ~ Instagram

It seems like lately the only thing we’ve done around here is recap the end of the world. Part One, Part Two, Part Three, and Part Four to be exact. Putting 2016 to bed was like getting my nephew to go to bed before 11 PM, but it’s finally been done, and we are free to move on… just as soon as we look back at the last week of the year. Good riddance to bad rubbish.

A union suit to stave off the chill.

Art Sex Life.

A dead ape dumped on a shelf.

Christmas Eve.

Christmas Day.

Everything’s as if we never said good-bye.

Chris Pratt got naked.

We begin in stillness and silence.

My stats.

The only thing I remember about a summer Statistics course that Suzie and I took at the local community college was the night I wore underwear to class (a tank top and boxers) and the time she kicked over a can of soda. I giggled because of the first, and nearly got kicked out of class for laughing so hard over the second. These are a different sort of stats – the traffic of my little website.

I don’t get a huge number of visits or hits like some major sites, but I like my visitors a little better. (Yes, I’m talking to you.) Anyway, in the age of transparency, I offer this glimpse behind the scenes of ALANILAGAN.com – and I thank you for being part of this motley crew.