Category Archives: Boston

A Boston Winter Respite – Part 1

Arriving with the Vietnamese chicken dinner already cooked, along with a shrimp and bulghur wheat salad, I entered the chilly Boston condo early Friday afternoon. It was a semi-sad moment, as the Christmas decorations were still up, and the remnants from our Children’s Holiday Hour littered most of the table and counter space. I smiled weakly at the memory, then quickly set about to clearing it all up until next year. At this point the last thing I want to see is anything to do with Christmas. January is the time for clearing the slate, and a Virgo finds nothing more satisfying than cleaning up for a fresh start.

I turned the heat up and unpacked, then put all the holiday stuff into storage. There was time to run a few errands before Kira arrived.

The afternoon was frigid and windy. A brutal onslaught of cold air would hang on for the whole weekend, rendering our usual walks much less enjoyable. I hurried back as soon as possible and began preparing dinner. With the heat on, and a few candles burning, things were warming nicely. Outside, the wind blew, and I texted Kira that she was in for a rough trek from her workplace to the condo. I made a pot of tea and relaxed into the warmth.

My first few days spent living in the condo, way back in 1996, proved similarly cold, yet inside there was always warmth. The bedroom remains cooler – the bay window back there lets more air in – but a few extra candles make up for it. As does a hot shower in the adjacent bathroom. On this night I managed both before Kira arrived.

When she rushed in bringing some of the outside cold, we lamented our winter weather and location, cursing ourselves for not having made enough fortune to winter elsewhere. Still, I wouldn’t change the chance to be cozy in the midst of such a cold night, and when all you have is tropical weather, there’s no way to really appreciate the heat when it returns. On this night we hunkered down beneath heavy blankets, sipping lemon ginger tea, and making plans for our visit to the Museum of Fine Arts the next morning. We would need to dress warmly…

{To be continued…}

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Whaling in Oklahoma, By Way of Boston

{This little review is from my TripAdvisor profile.}

Taking its name from an unnecessarily-outlawed practice in a very-land-locked state, ‘Whaling in Oklahoma’ occupies the former stead of Tremont 647, and though I was initially devastated to hear of the latter’s closure, I’m happy to report that what follows in its tracks is a restaurant of equal, if not greater, inspiration and excitement.

On a recent frigid night, the kitchen-side tables offered cozy respite from the biting outside air, and as we sat looking over the menu, we overheard the explanation of the namesake from a server. To the relief of the denizens at the next table, ‘Whaling in Oklahoma’ is more about an attitude of gleeful defiance and out-of-the-box thinking than any actual mammals on the menu. (That menu changes slightly based on what is in season and what moves the chefs, so what you see on the website is subject to variation.) On the night we visited, pork was what called to us the most, so we ordered three dishes featuring the flavorful meat. (Most of the dishes on hand are designed to be shared in smaller, tapas style, and will come out as soon as they’re ready, adding to the adventurous aspect that one should embrace here. Our server advised about two to three dishes per person, and it worked out well.)

Heavily influenced by Japanese flavors and traditions, the parade of plates we tried just kept getting better. It began with a simple Hamachi with blood orange, sansho pepper and nori. Cut into smaller bites, it was better able to absorb the surrounding flavors. An auspicious beginning to the meal, it was followed immediately by the miso glazed eggplant. The subtle flavor was enhanced by an ample and integral helping of sliced green onions. These two dishes were but a lead-in to the main event – a one-two-three pork punch that started with one of their specialties: the pork cutlet sandwich, with all its typical Japanese accompaniments. This one is cut neatly, crusts off, but in keeping with their motto of waste-less sustainability, they give you a second dish of the crusts and any additional items that may have been shaved off, then drizzle more of the sauce on it, and it’s simply wonderful (because after you finish the main sandwich, you will still want more – it’s that good). The steamed buns continued the porky fun, their spongy soft vehicle carrying some delicious twice-cooked pork belly and greens. The finale and culmination of the pork parade was found in the Okonomiyaki v. 1.2, which was more pork belly, some crispy kimchi and a coating of cheese that sends it into a different culinary atmosphere altogether. One of the pricier dishes at $17, this could easily be a meal unto itself, but then you’d miss out on all the other opportunities.

A decadent list of Japanese-inspired cocktails looked especially tempting, but for my dry January I opted for one of their booze-free options – the Shiso Peach. The mint-like shiso added the depth and freshness necessary to erase any alcohol-free regret. We’ll return in later weeks to sample some of their more potent offerings, including an intriguing trio of high balls.

This part was new to me: there is a 3% kitchen appreciation fee tacked onto the bill, which is noted on the menu. As explained, this is designed to help the kitchen staff share in the success of the restaurant, and purportedly to make a better experience for the guest. If that’s the secret to the culinary magic on hand, I won’t complain.

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Boston Leaves Imprints

On a newly-poured section of sidewalk on Massachusetts Avenue, a few fallen leaves from autumn have left their mark in and on the concrete. These faded markings gave me inexplicable joy when Kira and I stumbled upon them on our last visit. Nature will find her own beautiful route, paving a path in ways you never quite thought possible. City trees have been battling concrete for years, and just when it looks like the concrete has won, something like this happens and my faith in the world is briefly restored in the most whimsical of ways.

When the winter turns stark and all the world blends into a dull palette of grays and browns, there is still magic to be found if one looks closely enough. This is a subtle magic – it doesn’t scream or shout out to be noticed, it doesn’t blare its beauty in loud tones of garish saturation. The world is slumbering – do not rustle its rest. There will be time enough to put on your parades when spring returns. For now, we sleep, or walk quietly in a concrete forest littered with echoes.

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Nine Children & Nine Adults

Today marks this year’s Boston Children’s Holiday Hour, and it looks to be one of the largest we’ve ever thrown, with eighteen people cramming into the two-room condo (one room of which will be off-limits ever since a knocked-over candle wax mishap – karma for my brother and I spilling a candle-lit potpourri pot at the Ko house as kids). That means eighteen people in one room and a mini-kitchen. It will work. It has to. I’m not sure about the clean-up, but Suzie won’t leave me high and dry, especially since the sink will be filled with water as it doesn’t quite drain properly. Ahh, mayhem at the holidays

Other than the larger influx of my favorite people, the event will pretty much remain the same: families are encouraged to explore Boston for the first part of the day, and when that magical siesta hour approaches (3 PM or thereabouts) they’re welcome to stop in for some hot chocolate and marshmallows, mulled wine (Christmas-in-a-glass), and general merry-making. To make dinner plans easier, we’ll either order a pizza and/or send the festive troops on their way. The company is what makes this holiday hour(s) so fun, and since I haven’t seen some of these wonderful folks in a couple of years, it’s going to be a grand reunion. They will be coming in from all over: Albany, Detroit, Washington, Syracuse – and even South Africa. I hope Boston can handle all the bonhomie.

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The 2018 Holiday Stroll – Part 3

Continuing the madness that is Mercury in retrograde, our intended Red Line stop at Porter Square, from which we had planned on walking to Harvard, was not a stop that was open for this weekend. (The same thing happened last year, thank you fickle Red Line, but this year I was not hopping on transfer buses.) We made a quick recalculation and got off at Central; we would enter Harvard from the other side of Mass Ave. There were a few Tibetan stores on the way in, and much has been done with that area since a guy offered me a swig from his paper bag way back in the 90’s. It was only about 5 o’clock, but it might as well have been midnight, so dark had the sky suddenly turned. Christmas lights and the merriment of some Santa con event gave everything a festive air, and the feeling of the holidays was finally coming through. It had, up until that moment, been strangely elusive. I embraced it, and we slowed our steps. Good friends are in sync that way.

At the first Tibetan store, Kira found a hat just like the one she had recently lost (one that she procured on one of our first Holiday Strolls, so the symmetry of the find was fitting). I perused woolen shoes with pointy toes, countless strings of prayer beads, and elephant-patterned pants. Jewelry in amber and turquoise seduced the eyes, while incense tickled the nose. We find a certain peace when surrounded by all the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, the colorful silks, and minimalist Tibetan flute music. We browsed a few more precious gift shops (by precious I mean ridiculously expensive silly shit) that have found their way to the area, and soon it was cocktail hour. The warm and cozy bar of Harvest proved a happy spot to convalesce and seek out dining options on OpenTable, even if a single rum drink proved one too many for Kira, who was soon growing giddy and said the room was spinning, so we made our way to the Red House, which we had passed earlier, and had an open slot after 7.

Lead past an open fireplace, we had made the right choice, at least ambience-wise, and a cozy little dinner was enjoyed as we rested from our extensive ambulation. Making our way back from Cambridge, we switched to the Green line and exited at Copley so we could pause at the Lenox Hotel lobby, which was festooned gloriously for the season, and had a roaring fire with two sitting chairs just for us. The remainder of the evening was spent doing one more bucket brigade, and the start of ‘Meet Me in St. Louis’. We never did make it to the penultimate ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ but that’s what next year will be for. That night, the rain arrived – a heavy wide-ranging blanket of it, impossible to escape for the whole of the next day – so when I rose at 7:30 and saw the dismal state of the outside world, I closed the blinds and for the first time in forever we slept in until 11:30.

We’d had the foresight to get some food supplies just for this circumstance, so we lazily took our time, assembling some bagels with gravlax, and a quick egg dish. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying some quality time with a friend at the condo, especially when the rain is tapping at the windows. Eventually it subsided, so we rushed and got ready for one final shopping spurt.

As the light lowered on another day, and our seventh annual Holiday Stroll came to a quiet close, I dropped Kira at the T-station and hit the Mass Pike. We had done a lot – securing most of the items needed for the upcoming Boston Children’s Holiday Hour – and checked off quite a few of the boxes from our respective gift lists. Mostly, though, we simply enjoyed the company at this time of the year. That’s what Christmas should be anyway. The hustle and bustle is bearable when you have a friend to share in the fun. 

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The 2018 Holiday Stroll – Part 2

Saturday opened with a burst of happy sunlight, which unabashedly illuminated the undrained kitchen sink. Our time was too precious to be bothered with a five-hour window for a plumber, so Kira came up with the idea of transferring the dish water to the bathroom for draining. She took a plastic container and scooped the water into a pot. Once it was full, I ran it into the bathroom and poured it down the toilet. Our bucket brigade hummed along for several trips until the sink was mostly drained. Such is the making of a meal in the midst of Mercury in retrograde madness. We had a fast breakfast of panettone and tea, then began the stroll in earnest.

We began with a route from an earlier stroll, turning right onto Columbus and stopping at the Luke Adams gift shop, which was still closed. Apparently we were just a bit too early for its 10:30 opening, so we walked on and headed up Mass Ave. Kira loves Dorothy’s Boutique, so we paused in the costume store where she found a cozy winter hat in the style of Elmer Fudd. I told her not to do it, but when you’ve known me for twenty years you know enough not to listen.

As we crossed Boylston, the wind picked up. In spite of the sun, December’s chill was in full effect. We ducked into Muji for a moment of sweetly-scented calm, before braving the frenzy of Forever 21. (Where else can one find a unicorn headdress for a Rainbow Unicorn Holiday Party that we’re hosting in a few weeks?) Kira found a top (to make up for some items she forgot to bring) at Uniqlo, where we walked the rainbow staircase and realized it would soon be time for a proper meal. After browsing a few more stores, we took our lunch at Cafeteria. Like Sonsie’s, Cafeteria has become one of those Newbury mainstays that I have largely avoided, for no real reason other than I assume there will be time to visit in the future. On this day, we tried it out for the first time. The drinks were good, but the bacon was soggy and flabby, so hit and miss, and it’s now on the record books. We meandered along the rest of Newbury, turned back on Boylston, then headed to the condo for a very quick break before heading into Cambridge.

These little breaks, of rest or rejuvenation, are usually the favored corners of memory, where a few choice relics occupy stately yet subtle space in some cherished cabinet of curios. The sun streamed in through the bedroom bay window, and it was my favorite time of the day to be home there. It was due to rain that night and all the next day, so we stopped and took notice of the light. Always make time to bask in the glory when it’s good enough to present itself.

I tried on my outfit for the Boston Children’s Holiday Hour, glittering in the ample sunlight, while Kira lounged on the couch, resting tired feet and sipping tea. It was the perfect little siesta, and without reservations for dinner, or any concrete plans at all for that matter, we didn’t need to rush. Still, there were dangers and wastes involved in getting too cozy and comfy, so we rounded up a second wind, changed into evening attire, and headed back out, where the sun was already well on its way down.

{To be continued…}

 

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The 2018 Holiday Stroll – Part 1

Kira and I tried to figure out how long we have been doing these Boston Holiday Strolls, and the nearest we could guess was that this marked our seventh year. As such, we tried to change things up a bit which left us feeling slightly off-kilter. Mercury still being in retrograde didn’t help matters much either, as we had to contend with a kitchen sink that didn’t drain, key forgotten wardrobe items (I’m told that when you’re wearing a sheer shirt and no bra, some other sort of undershirt is required), and some uncharacteristic indecision on my part. (See, I’m so much better with an itinerary.)

It began on Friday afternoon, when I did some shopping for the upcoming Children’s Holiday Hour (which now has a planned nine children in attendance, and their various parents). I stopped at the market to pick up the ingredients for a quick pasta dish for Kira, then returned to the condo to finish the holiday decorating and making of a meal.

The candles were lit, and I was hoping to be too. I tried concocting a gin/Campari/grapefruit/rosemary cocktail that was largely a failure, but it looked pretty enough for a holiday picture. Taste-wise, it was a big fat no, thank you Mercury. As the kitchen sink filled with the incidental water from filling pasta pots, washing hands, and rinsing various utensils, dinner came together and by the time Kira arrived we were almost ready to eat. After a quick gift exchange and toast, we sat down to dine and decompress.

Some of the best moments of our Holiday Stroll weekend are the ones in which we are not strolling or roaming around Boston. Catching up with an old friend over dinner, as candles flicker and Christmas music plays softly in the background, will always be one of my favorite holiday escapades. As will our annual viewing of ‘The Man Who Came to Dinner’. Before the latter, we hunkered down in our holiday pajamas, popped a pair of sweet potatoes in the oven for our mid-point movie break (they pause for ‘Hot Sweets’ during the skating scene) and prepared for the show. Sleep came, as it usually does, before we finished the whole thing, but upon waking we saw the happy final scenes, at which point the strolling portion of our weekend finally began.

{To be continued…}

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Let’s Stroll Again

Like we did last Christmas… and the Christmas before… and the Christmas before

This weekend marks my annual Holiday Stroll with Kira. I think it’s our sixth or seventh, maybe even our eighth, and clearly no one’s counting. It’s become one of my favorite holiday excursions, whenever we manage to do it, and every year we seem to add a few new components while doing our best to maintain a couple of traditions. One mainstay is the viewing of ‘The Man Who Came to Dinner‘ – an old Bette Davis film set at Christmas time. At one point, while ice skating, they purchase a pair of ‘hot sweets’ – apparently baked sweet potatoes were once sold like hot dogs at a baseball game. As a nod to that scene, we bake a few in the oven and pause the movie when the skating part comes on to try them. We are invariably disappointed and left wondering what all the fuss is about, but we do it for the ritual.

Another tradition is a bowl of soup, preferably pho, and often somewhere in Chinatown. The latest thing we’ve added is a walk in Cambridge, from Porter Square to Harvard usually, where we peruse a couple of Tibetan stores and find something warm to wear.

The one year I did a full-blown and intricately-detailed itinerary was a year when it rained on the parade, throwing the entire minute-by-minute production into a chaotic shambles. Since then, I’ve avoided such intensive planning. This whole tradition began on a whim, and is best executed in the same manner. I can’t wait to see where this year’s takes us…

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A Beautiful Boston Reunion Before the Cape – Part 1

There was rain threatened for the first part of the weekend and, much worse when rain is concerned, wind as well. The weather was changing and a temperature drop was imminent. Somehow, I avoided the wet stuff on the ride from Albany to Boston, but as I parked and headed to the condo, there was a discernible damp chill to the rushing air. I had only a few hours before the rain was scheduled to start, so I did some power shopping and planned to stop at the market to get the ingredients for a risotto. Kira and I hadn’t seen each other in months, and I was going to make her dinner so we wouldn’t have to brave the elements, especially when they were about to turn so dire. Still, a few hours was ample time to find some beauty left in the light, and that’s what these few photos capture.

As I went along on a quick shopping spree, the day advanced and turned colder. The wind picked up and it was a cruel one, whipping and lashing about with no respite. I’d round each corner hoping for a spot of relief, but they only revealed another rush of icy air. The storm was coming.

As if an antidote for this shift in weather, the very beginning of the holiday shopping season was at hand. A few places had Christmas music playing, but I didn’t mind. Someone recently said that people who put their Christmas trees up earlier were happier people. I say fuck putting up a tree this early – at least in our house – but more power to anyone if it makes them happier. That would only serve to stress me out, given that we use a live tree and there’s no way it would make it to Christmas, much less little Christmas in January when Andy tends to take the tree down. That said, I embraced the early signals of the season. The day was so bleak those signs warmed the heart just when it was needed.

The bustle of a market on a Friday afternoon was a happy confusion. I procured the necessary items for a quick dinner, then dragged the shopping bags and groceries home. By the time I made it back to the condo, it was already dark. The wind had only grown more vicious and the rain began just as I started unpacking the bags…

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Lulled to Sleep by a Fountain in the Fall

Let’s begin with one of the most annoying aspects of our Boston abode: the drumbeat of a rainstorm as it falls on the air conditioner unit that hangs outside the bedroom window. I will never complain about having a bay window in the back of our condo; I’m told they are a luxury in Boston. But I need to find a way to combat the loud drumming of water falling on the metal AC. It is incredibly loud, like a snare drum that magnifies every drop of water, drilling it into your head in some mild form of water torture. Once in a while, it’s soft enough to be a comfort, but anything more than a sprinkling has it sounding off like a half-time show. I’ve thought of putting a piece of shag carpet out to lessen the impact, but I don’t want to make it too inviting for birds or other critters. Suggestions are welcome.

Now onto one of my favorite aspects of the Boston abode: sleeping with the windows open in the fall. When the nights just start turning cooler and the breeze blows in from the ocean, it’s time to open the windows and air out any remaining stuffiness of summer. I love hunkering down in a fuzzy robe, sitting by the window, and allowing the wind to rustle the curtains and remind me of how cozy the condo can be.

A few weeks ago I had the lucky circumstance to be in Boston and experience both extremes. The first night was ravaged by a storm, and I was awakened at about 3 in the morning by the rattling and pounding of rain upon the air conditioner. Tossing and turning in bed, I cursed the timing of the thing, even if I was glad to get it over with before the start of the next day. After getting its tears out, the next night was breezy and cool, but not taking any chances on a 3 AM wake up storm, I moved myself out onto the couch, which I will sleep on once in a great while. The front windows were open and the fountain in the middle of Braddock Park was trickling its water down in the most soothing fashion: the exact opposite of the tumult of the night before. Soon the fountain will be turned off for the season, and I was grateful to be there at that moment. A thick, plush blanket was all I needed as the night turned colder. The sounds of gently falling water and the occasional whisper of a breeze masked the distant noise of the city. Alone in the condo, I felt a profound feeling of peace settle over me as I settled into sleep.

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Boston Anniversary Recap 2018

The first lilac one sniffs in spring brings back the rush of all the lilacs you’ve smelled before. It signals the memory power of scent, going back all the way to childhood, to happiness, to innocence. On our first day in Boston, we inhaled the sweet perfume and were reminded of all our Maine visits, all our springs opening the pool, all our youthful hopes and promises. It was a perfect marker for the weekend, and this is the perfect time to encapsulate it all in one convenient link-filled post:

Boston Anniversary with Andy~ Part 1

Boston Anniversary with Andy ~ Part 2

Boston Anniversary with Andy ~ Part 3

Boston Anniversary with Andy ~ Part 4

Boston Anniversary with Andy ~ Part 5

Boston Anniversary with Andy ~ Part 6

Boston Anniversary with Andy ~ Part 7

As for the lilacs, ours will be in the midst of their own show soon enough. Now we have one more lilac memory to add to the gorgeous tapestry already in our hearts.

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Boston Anniversary with Andy 2018 ~ Part 7

The clouds started to roll in a little on Sunday morning, but we would somehow escape the rain until we departed. Once in a while the universe smiles like that. We slept in ~ a rare indulgence these days when the late start to the season has me scrambling on most weekends. Our reservations at the Bristol Lounge weren’t until noon, so we took our time getting up. There is luxury in simply lying in bed on a lazy Sunday morning.

There is luxury in a brunch at the Four Seasons too, and since that’s where we were headed we mustered the fortitude to face the day and carry on. Andy ordered an Uber and I documented the whole thing per request.

After 18 years, I’m finally starting to understand what sets Andy’s mind at ease while traveling: a good hotel (preferably with a suite) and a decent car to get us around. Coffee for waking and Cole Porter for listening. On this trip, three out of four isn’t bad.

For the occasion of our anniversary brunch, I opted for the same cologne I wore for our wedding day: ‘Green Irish Tweed’ by Creed. It’s a very special scent, a birthday gift from Andy, and I only wear it for our anniversary (I want it to last for life, and it’s a small bottle). I paired it with this silk scarf, which complemented my infamous jacket.

While we usually go for a low-key lunch (the Bristol burger is renowned for good reason), on Sunday there is only a brunch option, so we splurged for the decadent buffet feast (and I filled plates like the one you see below so many times I lost count).

After such gluttony it’s best to walk some of it off, and since the rain was holding off we went across the street and back to the Boston Public Garden.

One of the swans was swimming then, and we rounded the pond to find its rump in the air as it sought its meal. Echoed by an advancing swan boat, the real and the reproduced floated by one another in whimsical fashion while a stray duck photobombed the scene.

Around us the garden was in bloom. Sweet apple blossoms scented the breeze as white petals floated gently down to the ground, gathering like freshly-fallen snow. We made our way out just as more clouds rolled in.

We took our time getting back, as much from our full stomachs as by a reluctance to end the idyllic weekend. Everything is slower on Sunday. I wanted to extend it all and stay away from the real-world concerns and obligations that waited in New York. Consolation is found in the thought of returning in the summer. The beds will be changed then ~ filled with tropical foliage and perhaps the flaming flowers of canna or begonias. There will be another show to see, another restaurant to try, and another weekend of escape. Until then, there will be these memories.

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Boston Anniversary with Andy 2018 ~ Part 6

As we neared the end of our Public Garden stroll, we came across the gentleman who had provided the enchanting bit of ehru music on our wedding day, and can often be found here on gorgeous days. Some aspects of the day you don’t even realize you miss until they show up later than expected. The occidental tune added to the beauty around us and we slowly withdrew from the garden. We shall return in the summer.

Taking Boylston back toward the condo for the afternoon siesta, we ducked into the Lenox Hotel, where we spent my 40thbirthday in the Judy Garland suite. A gold lion sentinel stood guard outside, while inside the lobby the couch beckoned for us to sit down. More lions, of the stuffed animal variety, lined the wall. Perhaps we’ll return to that suite someday…

In the meantime, we made do with the condo, once again resplendent in the afternoon light. A quick nap and change of clothes, and then it was time for dinner.

In what used to be the location of Sibling Rivalry, we were early enough to get an outdoor table at Barcelona, right next door to the Boston Center for the Arts (where we had tickets for ‘Love! Valour! Compassion!).

The meal was all right, marred slightly by some service issues, but you can find those details in my TripAdvisor entries. 

After the lackluster drinks and dinner at Barcelona, we returned to a restaurant that has always done a solid pour: Aquitaine. Next year we should probably just make an anniversary reservation here, as we somehow manage to find our way to the chic bar for their delicious cocktail listing. It was the perfect pre-theater moment.

After the show, we walked off the dinners of the previous two nights, meandering beneath the street-lamp-lit blooms of the cherry trees. A joyous ending to a joyous day…

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Boston Anniversary with Andy 2018 ~ Part 5

Eight years ago our wedding ceremony took place in a quiet, verdant stretch of the Boston Public Garden, where three young cherry trees formed a little triangle, and an elderly Kwanzan and Metasequoia tree rose to form a majestic backdrop. Beyond them the walking bridge over the swan pond elegantly connected both sides of the water. Today, the sun matched the majesty of that original day as Andy and I made our way into the garden.

Ducks and geese swam in the water, while squirrels jumped and hopped on land. Little birds swooped in and chirped from their tree perches. It was an idyllic scene.

This remains one of my favorite places in the world. No matter what else is going on in the city, and to a larger extent in the world, I always find a sense of peace here. Whether it’s during the glory of spring, the ripen full greenery of summer, the fiery last show of fall, or the delicate slumber of winter, there is always a hushed sense of reverence and contentment here. It is here in the pretty flowering of the cherry trees, the gentle curves of the Japanese pagoda, or the graceful neck of a swan.

Today there was noise and celebration too, as spring had overtaken the space in a riotous collection of bursting tulips and excited tourists. Vivid reds and cheery yellows lit up the beds (usually we are just at the end of their show, but this year they waited for us). Setting off fireworks against their green surroundings and a bright blue sky, they shouted happy greetings to all who passed.

We walked along the edge of the pond, saw a boisterous goose chase another out of the way, said hello to a friendly squirrel, then crossed the walking bridge, pausing in the middle in the same spot we posed on our wedding day.

Two swans nested beside the pond beneath us. We watched their quiet repose before continuing on our way…

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Boston Anniversary with Andy 2018 ~ Part 4

We walked through the glorious morning and made a couple of fragrance stops of Neiman Marcus and Barneys. Disappointingly, the Copley Square Neiman Marcus had stopped stocking Diana Vreeland Parfums, leaving me at a loss to try one of their latest, ‘Wildly Attractive’, which was really our sole reason for being in that store. Moving on to Barneys, I found the delicious ‘Cologne Indelibile’ under the Frederic Malle label and was instantly under its spell. A perfect accompaniment to Tom Ford’s ‘Neroli Portofino’ but slightly longer-lasting, it will be this summer’s signature scent ~ all lemon and bergamot and orange blossom glory.

From there, we walked along Newbury Street toward the Boston Public Garden. Ever since we’ve been married, we stop by Shreve, Crump and Low, where we got our wedding rings, to have them washed. It’s a tradition, and one of my favorites. There’s something formal and ritualistic about it ~ it reminds me of that day eight years ago when we made our commitment to each other official. It’s a lovely reminder of all that we vowed and promised. And it’s a lovely thing that only Andy and I share, something I have with no one else.

While we wait, there are always other things to peruse ~ like Burmese rubies and Pink sapphires. Of course, there are things that appeal to Andy as well; he has been wanting a watch from Shreve, Crump and Low ever since we got our wedding rings. And if I’d started saving up all those years ago, I still would be nowhere close to the $17,000 price tag on his preferred time piece. Still, it’s nice to look, and the friendly salespeople were more than happy to snare a couple celebrating their anniversary and bring them up a flight of stairs to their watch showroom.

Incredulous at what they must have thought was in our wallets, I whispered to Andy in disbelief, “Do these people actually think we can afford these watches??” I had just looked at a $27,000 rose gold hot pink model studded with pink sapphires or something. Fortunately, my poker face is good, and I nonchalantly moved on to the next price point as if he were talking about 27,000 blades of grass. One day, post-lottery, I’ll find a way to get Andy one of these time pieces. But that day is not yet here, and we walked out with only our sparkling rings and free smiles.

The Public Garden was ahead of us, but we took a slight detour through the Taj to see their floral display, which was rather unimpressive compared to the piles of peonies and cherry blooms that were there during our stay. We headed back into the sunshine…

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