Today is Andy’s birthday, so if you see him or have his number, be sure to wish him as much. He’s still my favorite person in the world, and we still have fun, which at twenty-five years in is saying quite a bit. Here are a couple of shots from recent adventures – Andy’s always up for a good steak dinner and a fancy Uber ride to get there.
Happy birthday Drew – I love you – and many happy returns of the day!
Intense artistic introspection and self-reflection are part of the ferociously fertile ground that artist Glen Pudvine explores in his images. His work is a powerful compendium of self-exploration that directly confronts both viewer and artist, forcing the sort of questionable comfort that we sometimes find in someone unafraid to unabashedly revel in and reveal themselves. Studies of other bodies, other faces, and other bodily landscapes round out the artist’s ongoing trajectory, more than justifying this crowning as Dazzler of the Day.
{Check out Pudvine’s website here for additional evidence of his brilliance.}
Let’s just call this the Holiday Cactus, to encompass Columbus Day, as we add that to the roster of holidays on which this crazy plant has bloomed. It’s been this pretty for Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s, and Easter. At its heart, it’s a signifier of change, of seasonal shifts, of more light leaving or arriving. A transitional totem. A symbol of time and movement.
We are moving quickly through this fall. Once Halloween comes and goes, we’ll be right into the holiday slide. Is anyone ready for this? I am as ready as I’m going to be, and I’m taking the weight off any and every holiday responsibility because boundaries and limits are best for a proper Virgo.
‘No’ is a complete sentence, and one of my favorites.
Shadow and majesty glided overhead as a blue heron landed right where I was taking afternoon photos along the Ogunquit River. It floated down silently, gracefully, then took a few deliberate steps before standing confidently before me. These sad, cropped photos hardly do the creature justice, but its beauty and magnificence could barely be captured by anything other than an in-person experience. Such enchantment is not to be harnessed for the likes of a blog, though I hope some residual magic remains in the idea and spirit and respect offered to this wonder.
I’ve always had an affinity with the cranes and herons of the world – the way they hold their elegant heads high, allowing whatever raging water of a stream or river to flow chaotically around their stalwart legs, maintaining composure and grace in the face of riotous surroundings. Betsy pointed out that I have a lot of clothing items with cranes and birds on them – confirmation that my soul is made for flight, my heart is designed to soar, and my thoughts are as insubstantial as the wispiest cloud in the sky.
Some days the price stickers don’t come easily off anything.
Those are the trying days.
Those are the days you think about giving up.
But you don’t.
You put on your Big Boy Go-To-Hell Pants, you dig out the Goo Gone, and you scrub and you scrape and you tear that sticky pulp off like some retail therapy band-aid designed to save the world.
Or at least your little world, in this one very particular little moment of absolute ludicrousness, like this entire ridiculous post where any and al humor will be completely lost upon the masses.
First world problems until I move to the third world.
After 25 years it might seem like there is not much new to discover in a small vacation town like Ogunquit, but like the subtly shifting shoreline, there are always new and different things to see, even if it’s just a matter of changing perspective and taking a new route to get to an old favored place. On our last full day in town, I found myself traversing an unfamiliar sidewalk leading off the bumper-to-bumper traffic crawl of Route 1. The slightly obscured walkway brought me up a little hill into a residential area I’d not yet frequented, thought it’s relatively close to our bed and breakfast.
A border of evergreens beckoned and guided me along the walkway, and around the first turn I was plummeted into a secret garden of dahlias. Great swaths of them still in full bloom, tall and swaying in the wind, bloomed into a chilly afternoon that reminded me we were very deep into fall already. Plate-sized blooms of radial beauty displayed shades of pink, yellow, orange, and red. Cream and white variations softened the more fiery hues, while stretches of colorful zinnias kept up and held their own.
Feeling as if I’d wandered into some forbidden private garden, I braced myself as a small woman walked toward me, a pair of long shears looking like some double sword in her hands.
I tried disarming her with a smile, and ventured timidly, “Can you tell me where I am?” She looked at me kindly, slightly puzzled. “I’m sorry,” I continued, “Is this your private property?” and I backed up sheepishly, ready to make a hasty retreat as needed or requested.
“Oh no, this is a public easement,” she said sweetly. “That’s my house right there,” she continued, pointing to a lovely home that I only then noticed. “The easement goes right through the garden.”
“Oh!” I exclaimed, genuinely excited to meet the person behind such beautiful flowers. “These are your dahlias?!” I asked with perhaps too much enthusiasm. “They are beautiful!”
She proceeded to take me a little tour, showing the best blooms that remained this late in the season, and expressing a wish that I’d seen them just a week ago. Pausing at the many shades and shapes of a stretch of pink plants, I marveled continuously at the parade of prettiness before and behind us. We reached the top of the floriferous path and she pointed out a patch of plants across the street that wasn’t doing as well. “I use only my own compost, but that section doesn’t get as much.” I inquired whether she ever used manure, my go-to for getting plants to prosper, and she said no, only the compost. I told her I was so glad to meet her, saying that I only wanted to go on a pretty walk and she had provided that, then she pointed out several routes to continue on my way.
It was a lovely surprise ending to a weekend that had been filled with comforting traditions and good company. Until next May, Maine…
While dinners usually form the highlight of any given vacation day in Ogunquit – the sea having its typical effect of stimulating the appetite, and the offerings of fresh seafood giving us more options than our usual land-locked availability – the shops of this quaint town offer their own appeal and magic, with unique and lovely items that can’t be found anywhere else. Here are few of my favorites.
Perkins Cove Bookstore – This year marked my first visit to this charming little bookhouse, located near the entry point to Perkins Cove. It’s a cozy, beautifully laid-out space, ideal for taking your time and browsing all sorts of books – from local Maine authors to an extensive LGBTQ+ section, along with a robust children’s and Young Adult selection – in short, there is something for everyone here.
Kiki’s Ogunquit – Fabulous and fun fashion, alluring and artistic accessories, and a sparkling assortment of jewelry, Kiki’s provides a finely-curated collection of wearable pieces of art. I always manage to find at least one item for myself here, as well gifts for my Mom, in this colorful and vibrant two-story expanse of exquisite delight.
Spoiled Rotten – An entire grand house unfurls its many rooms of retail wonder, each opening up with gifts and pleasures to savor and experience. Lots of food options abound, along with the beautiful bowls and utensils and trays and napkins on which to serve them – in addition to objects of art and whimsy and local flavor. It’s the sort of place that requires a dedicated stretch of time to peruse and get lost amid its many amusements.
Perkins Cove Pottery Shop – Local artisans have crafted many of the items available here, and my Mom’s home has an extensive collection of their pottery, each of which is a work of unique art, and fully-functional for home dining fanciness. Along with their gorgeous lineup of pottery, there are gifts and art for the indoors and outdoors – lots of whimsical books, a spattering of rings and jewelry, and some of the friendliest staff of any store in Ogunquit, which is a feat in itself given the overflowing friendliness of most places.
Calluna Fine Flowers and Gifts – One of the most beautiful shops in Ogunquit, Calluna is a floral feast of olfactory glory, with the best blooms in town, and a cozy space that packs a pretty punch. I don’t know how they manage to fit all the fine clothing, soaps, lotions, and other luxury gift items into the little expanse, but a walk through feels like a journey to another world, where beauty is the order of the day.
On the Main – A charming bastion of Main Street, this lovely gift shop offers glassware, cards, jewelry, art prints, frames, and accessories to capture a little of Maine’s magic for your own home.
Ogunquit granted us a gift this fall, in the form of some very fine late-summer weather that recalled our very first trip here together twenty-five years ago. Sunny and warm, with only the slightest sea breeze at the start of a long weekend, the bulk of our days were idyllic – some bit of proverbial Fontainebleau hanging on by sheer force of will.
Arriving on Thursday, our more-or-less merry band of three (Andy, Mom and myself) settled in instantly for a few days of relaxing ease in the charm and enchantment of this Beautiful Place By the Sea. Our usual magnificent room at the Scotch Hill Inn, and Anthony’s sumptuous breakfasts made for a delectable start to all of our days, and having a familiar and comforting home base is key to any real relaxation on vacation.
We got all of the cozy beauty of fall – its super-saturated flowers glowing in the golden afternoon light, its gorgeous gourd and pumpkin displays, and the various shades of turquoise, aquamarine and cerulean of its Atlantic water – all backed by a warmth of weather that usually departs by September.
Only on our last full day did the atmosphere shift incontrovertibly to autumn, with the over-teased first bands of a Nor’easter that never quite bothered us, but which provided a discernible switch from the balmy into the bittersweet, as the wind kicked up and the clouds rolled in. A number of degrees cooler was not an unwelcome downgrade; there’s nothing wrong with being seasonally appropriate, especially with so many beautiful coats to wear.
All in all, it was a lovely trip of calm and healing, remembering times with Dad and Gram, and appreciating Maine in autumn with all its raw, majestic splendor.
Artists make my favorite Dazzlers because they usually see the world in a different and thoughtful way – not that appreciators and non-artists can’t, it just seems to be more prevalent and obvious in the work of an artist, particularly if they capture the human condition in the gorgeous way Alexis Franklin does in her paintings. She earns this Dazzler of the Day for all that undeniable talent. You don’t have to take my word for it – check out the introduction on her enchanting website:
“Drawing inspiration from traditional mediums such as oil paints, I enjoy pushing the boundaries of what digital painting can be. I love textures and experimenting with different ways to achieve them, while telling as many human stories as I can. I started out, as most artists do, pencil drawing at a very young age. Eventually, I dabbled in water colors and colored pencil until I discovered drawing tablets. I asked for one for Christmas at the age of eighteen and never looked back. Since then, I have worked tirelessly to teach myself the techniques and processes that have ultimately led to the “painterly” style I’m known for today. Being entirely self taught has been an interesting journey, but it is one I wouldn’t trade. That journey has allowed me to work with some incredible companies and people I never thought possible when I started posting my works online. Some of my clients include TIME Magazine, Apple, Sports Illustrated, O Magazine, and several New York Times bestselling authors.” ~ Alexis Franklin
Damn. I should have done more with the crop top when I could have done more with the crop top.
Regrets, I’ve had a few…
Ornamental kales and cabbages are favorite fall accent plants, and I’ve always admired their brilliant color and ruffled textures, the way each one can be a bouquet and focal point at once. These can also take a light frost and keep on putting on their show. Hardiness and beauty – a killer combination.
The vibrant colors of the leaves rival any flower of spring or summer, and the prominent veining exceeds the work of any artist.
I adore a mural that turns a nondescript building into a work of art, and this new one in downtown Albany looks to be something that echoes the bright blue of the sky, at least in this early stage. I can’t wait to see what it becomes.
When not in use, should a shower curtain be left closed or open?
Discuss amongst yourselves and get back to me. Showering minds want to know.
{See also ‘Christian Bale naked.’}
A belief in oneself can be manufactured from thin air, but it’s a difficult and arduous journey. Not for the faint of heart or weak of constitution, it requires a certain infallible confidence, often misplaced, joined with a degree of vanity and ego, and an unhealthy dash of desperation, or wanting to be something or someone greater than what you might be today – all in the name of yourself and your survival in the world at large. It’s easy to be dismissed, especially today, when so many others are willing to whore themselves out to make the loudest splash, the brashest statement, the rudest clickbait. I’ve towed such a line in the past, and I don’t recommend it. There are so many better ways to make oneself known, especially to oneself. Self-discovery is best done in a quieter and more neutral space than social media, but kids will be kids and there’s no talking to them anymore. I can’t say I would have listened any more in my younger years.
This post is somewhat ironic in the way it deconstructs its very tenets, poking holes in its own critique, illuminating its fallacies while playing up those very failures. A reflexive instance of self-ownership and self-propaganda. Do you follow me on Instagram or BlueSky or Threads? Social media mayhem abounds… join me there for the show. Oh, and please share that QR code, because sharing is caring.
