Category Archives: General

A maple leaf in a cocktail glass seems like a fitting afternoon post for a Friday. It feels like fall. Looks like it too. We magically gain an hour of time this weekend, and rather than wondering how to save or spend it, I’m going to work on fully inhabiting it, on being present and completely mindful. To be fully present for an hour is a monumental achievement – mostly because if you can master it for an hour, you can master it for a lifetime. But it doesn’t happen easily or without work. It takes many days of practice and effort to be so mindful, and it’s a practice that doesn’t have an end or finish line. That used to bother me – I once did much better with a definitive goal in a finite period of time. Now I embrace the uncertainty, taking each moment as it comes, and counting only each moment as it arrives. No more is guaranteed. No more is promised. 

Inspired by the water-like imagery induced by this music, this glimpse of a stream provides a visual framework for this Friday morning post. Musically, scroll down a bit to find something by Karel Barnoski from his ‘Tiny Telephone Sessions’. The first weekend of November is already at hand. Not quite ready for it, I’m in the process of re-introducing meditation into the daily routine, and I need it more than ever. Up to about 15 minutes every other day, I find it easier to slip into the focused slow breathing, and that sacred space of peace and stillness. It’s just enough to take the edge off of the day. 

For a sleepy Friday morning, before we set the clocks back, this extra pocket of time provides another moment to pause and regroup. Sitting on a bank beside a stream is an apt metaphor, as the water flows by, but the stones and the trees remain stoic and still. Grounded by the earth, the motion of the stream would not matter were it not for the bed beneath it and the banks beside it. 

As a companion post for this other fuchsia-shaded entry, this time it’s the ornamental kale that gives us such color and cheer. More was said in that post than can be seen here, and I’ll cut this short so you can visit that link. 

When things get turned upside down, I often find it best to regroup in the woods, and reconnect with nature in a way that brings me back to my childhood, when I’d find escape and safety within the folds of a forest. As a kid, on those days when my anxiety got the best of me, it was the place I went after the stresses of school. If I was raw and tender from the familiar worry and over-analysis running through my head, I could step into the backyard and slip away into the woods. 

Growing older, I sought out nature when living in Boston. On those tough nights when I was lonelier than I ever admitted, I would venture out to the harbor to seek the sea. Even in the winter when the flagpoles were clanging in the wind like church bells, there was solace by the water. Other nights, nearer to spring, I would find my way home while skirting the Boston Public Garden, drawn by the shadows of trees, lured by the fragrance of unseen flowers. In the middle of the city, nature found a way, and I would find a way to nature. 

These days I’m looking to go back, in any way possible. 

A lot went down on the blog in the past week, and as we enter the month of November it’s a good point to pause and remember. Here’s how it all shook out…

It began with a whisper of Halloween in this hint of what took us ten years to make. 

This week marked two years since I had my last alcoholic drink. 

Our first Halloween song in ten years came to fruition in a single weekend: this is ‘Home for Halloween’. 

Smile like you mean it. 

Abhorring cheap sentimentality.

Cozy in Connecticut. 

A late show by the hydrangeas.

The blue heron stands.

A cactus for Halloween.

I got boosted like a bad-ass.

This hat was made for Halloween.

And this kid won Halloween.

Our Dazzler of the Day was Dr. Joseph Abramo, who made this year’s Halloween song happen.

A couple of days ago I got my COVID vaccine booster, and as soon as you’re eligible you should do the same – it’s the only way we are going to get rid of this and maybe return to some normal semblance of living. Not that I mind the social distancing or telecommuting… Anyway, here is where I went to set up my appointment and it couldn’t have been simpler. 

#GetVaccinated #GetBoosted 

Against the implacable rush of water, the blue heron stands tall, feet firmly planted on the stream-bed, head held still and high. Statuesque – and it is indeed like a sculpture as it stands there unmoving – it commands this section of the stream, holding court like the royal bird it is. 

It is an inspiration, waiting so patiently and quietly, so still and stoic amid the madness of the water swirling about its legs. Is it resting or watching for a meal? The blue heron keeps its secrets as close as its feathers, hidden by the elegance of its long neck and beak – grace and beauty their own deceptive shields. 

The only secret I want to discover is how it manages to stay so calm and still in such cold and disruptive water. Every time I think I’m approaching that stillness, something knocks me off the peaceful perch. I am too quickly swayed by the rush of the world, too easily knocked down by the maelstroms of all that swirls by in a single, and not even very tumultuous, day. Blue heron, tell me that secret and you can keep all the others. 

Up until now I’d only ever visited my friends Missy and Joe at the height of summer – in the blazing sunny glory of late June or early July – so to make the pretty drive to Connecticut in October was a new, and lovely, fall experience. On the way, I took a detour down to New Canaan, where I stopped by our friend Carl’s store for a quick visit and a gift for Joe. It was an auspicious beginning for a weekend of fun, a musical labor of love, and a reunion with people have become more like family than friends.

My summer trip earlier this year began with a stormy arrival at the tail-end of a hurricane, which was pretty much how the entire summer went, but autumn has granted us a reprieve in the weather department, and that summer visit provided its own enchantments, overcast days be damned. No such gray skies clouded this trip, and I arrived to find a sunny backyard in the throes of autumnal splendor. Joe greeted me as Missy was at work and the kids were at school, and we wasted no time in getting right into the making of the Halloween song.

The work, documented fully here, was fun and exciting, and it was a thrill to see someone take the most rudimentary of musical ideas and turn it into a full-fledged song. He added guitar, a bass line and a drum track, culling and coalescing all the visions I had into aural form. We worked downstairs near the guitar garden and the meditation pond, then moved upstairs to the keyboard and recording room (actually Julian’s bedroom). The hours passed quickly, as much for the enjoyment of the labor as for the enjoyment of the company, and soon it was time for dinner. Missy and the kids joined us to prepare dinner, then Missy had to take Julian to a cello lesson, so Joe continued working on the song a bit more.

The night grew pleasantly cooler – a fine fall evening in Connecticut – ideal for slumber and talking with dear friends. The next day dawned in even sunnier splendor, and Doug and Julio were going us for dinner. Missy put together a delicious feast and we enjoyed a gathering of people that go back to my childhood. By that time we had completed the framework of the song and just needed someone to sing it – and Doug was gracious enough to oblige. It came together as the evening closed, and by the next day Joe had finished it completely. 

Creating art together may be one of my favorite ways of getting closer to a friend. Spending time with Missy, who has known me since we were kids attending Suzie’s birthday parties, is always a balm for my heart. And getting to feel like part of their family is something that makes me feel better about all the other things going on in my life and in the world. 

It was a very good weekend in fall. 

Fall is definitely a mood, and a rather moody one at that. It’s all drama, all change, all thrills and literal chills. It’s a cozy candle-lit dinner with a few close friends with some vaguely sentimental music playing in the background, some wistful remembrance of a time gone by, or a time not yet here, and the head is fuzzy and the night is hazy and you’re not sure whether it’s warm or chilly, so you lean into the flickering light from the candles and lose yourself a little. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bx8-kKeY5Ig

It’s this musical mashup by Milt Jackson, with its undertones of melancholy, its sweetness of melody. It’s a curling tendril of smoke from the tip of a cigarette or the end of a candle’s life. It’s a resinous, amber streak of cologne. It’s a furry vest and a cup of hot tea held by fingerless gloves. It’s comfort food and roasted vegetables and bowls of steaming soup. It’s firelight and smoldering embers. 

It’s a Wednesday night at home on the couch, listening to music in the dim light, and calling bedtime a bit early because so much of the week has already gone, and so much of it hasn’t. 

Every now and then you have to trick the brain into happiness by leading with the body. In this case it’s the simple act of forcing a smile when it’s the last thing you may want to do. I’ve read that merely making yourself smile instills a bit of joy into the moment, and it makes complete sense. It’s sort of a back-end way into an emotion.

If a smile or laugh is the result of happiness or joy, and our bodies have been conditioned over decades to associate that physical sensation with the emotional state that caused it, why wouldn’t doing it backwards have at least a bit of the same effect?

Over the years, I’ve found myself inadvertently employing such a technique – mostly in the form of laughing out of sheer exasperation at life and the typical way it shits on us. And invariably I feel just the slightest bit better. 

So on this day, and from this point forward, I will lead with a smile. Start the day with a laugh. And do a little dance to fake it until I make it real. 

Looks like we’re due for a rainy week ahead, so I’m taking the residual glow from a sunny, song-making weekend in Connecticut and holding it near and dear for as long as possible. That means indulging in our Monday morning quarterback trick of recapping what went on the week before. Here we go…

The signs of a woolly winter. 

A glimpse of grace.

The beauty of these berries. 

Happy birthday to my husband. 

An erotic anniversary. 

Lavender stars and purple explosions. 

Solace of the sky.

Walking on fallen leaves.

Mercurial madness in Boston, Part One. 

Mercurial madness in Boston, Part Two.

Dazzlers of the Day included: Andy VanWagenen, Madonna, Shangela and Laverne Cox. 

Pulled down by the wind and rain, most of the maple’s leaves had been deposited on the walkway before us, where they were further tamped down by the footfalls of humans. It seemed like such an ignoble ending to what had been a lovely journey, yet this very act of destruction and degradation was all a part of the process. From the decay and disintegration came a covering that would once again become one with the soil, nourishing the next crop of leaves that were waiting to bud and unfurl in chartreuse glory come spring. 

On the edge of a forest, where a stream maintains its gentle flow even when it rains, this bed of leaves is a blanket that will ultimately provide sustenance and support to the very tree from which it came. To some it is a sad sight – the embodiment of summer’s end and ruin – to others it is a happy sign of a cozy slumber to come, and the chance to rejuvenate and rest for the next year. 

We all need a winter blanket.