Category Archives: General

Ever since I mooned a man in the parking lot of Dan-Dee Donuts in Amsterdam when I was eight or nine years old, doughnuts have held a special place in my heart. That said, I don’t often (or ever) go out of my way to get one of the fried rings of golden goodness. However, Suzie asked if we could make a stop at one of her husband’s favorite doughnut places – The Donut Dip – in Springfield while on our way back from Boston. 

Happily, it was well worth the little detour. We arrived to a small parking section packed with cars, and the small storefront was filled with people, but they were quick and efficient and there wasn’t much of a wait. Established in 1957 and owned by the same family ever since, this was a pleasant throwback to a more innocent time. The perfect way to accentuate a Sunday morning. 

I opted for a toasted coconut doughnut, and a small decaf. The doughnut was delightful; the coffee left something to be desired. I suppose that’s the way it should be. All in all, this was a nice little unexpected excursion to close out a fun weekend in Boston. That whole tale is yet to come… 

A flash of red swooped down into the dirty covered pool of early spring. Reflected in the dark water, his red feathers reflected the glorious afternoon sun – all too scant and fleeting this year. Perched on the edge of the pool, he walked in jerky spurts of motion before dipping down into the water and taking a quick bath. (It made for difficulty in finding focus, but the color is unmistakable.)

While the return of the robins is more indicative of spring’s arrival, this little show of upkeep from the cardinal was a happy scene to witness too. Cardinals hold a special place in our hearts, no matter what the season. Watching this one splash about, dunking his head quickly under the water and shaking it off, made me smile. Soon, the pool will be open. Spring will unfurl its sweet splendor. The earth will come back to life in shades of chartreuse – the perfect backdrop for a red bird.

Littering the lawns at this time of the year are the remnants of a cruel winter that did its best to dampen our spirits and ruin our yards. It partially succeeded in both, but after all these years in upstate New York it’s going to take more than a long winter to beat us down completely. We are strong. We are resilient. And we are ready to clean up the mess.

While not the most brutal of winters, this last one has taken its time departing, and it had its fair share of nasty storms and cutting winds, hence a large amount of debris and detritus from the trees. Consider it nature’s way of pruning, dangerously done without regard to what’s below. Andy and I live in vague dread of having another tree-top pierce our roof again, but this winter passed without incident. The ground tells another story.

Large boughs litter the brown yard, while pinecones and acorns and leaves lie in a wet, matted mess. Still, there is life here if one has the patience to cull it. Hidden in a pinecone are the seeds to start a new evergreen. Within the capped acorn is a baby oak tree waiting to find sun, water and soil to crack itself open and reach for the sky. Life is messy sometimes. Messy and wonderful and laced with hope in the bleakest of circumstances.

Behold the Aviation, a beautiful cocktail that garners its amethyst hue from an integral dose of Crème de violette. Do not be fooled by the latter’s dairy-like name – it’s a purple cordial that is not in the least bit creamy. As for the cocktail, it’s an old classic that has withstood several incarnations over the years. Recipes vary, but I’ll provide a starting standard to get you going if you’re interested in a tart and floral gin-based beauty.

The Aviation

Ingredients:

• 1 ½ ounces Gin
• ½ ounce freshly squeezed lemon juice (strained)
• ¾ ounce Maraschino liqueur (Luxardo)
• ¾ ounce Crème de violette
• Maraschino cherry to garnish

Shake with ice and strain into the prettiest cocktail glass you have on hand.

Given its tendency to change over the years, this is a pretty forgiving cocktail, and you should adjust and modify the ration of ingredients to your wish and whim. (There’s nothing better than cocktail experimenting, as long as you have no place to go afterward.)

This is a great drink for spring; its violet color and floral accents are the perfect accompaniment to seasonal gatherings. When our violets come into bloom, I may use a few of their blossoms to replace the cherry as a garnish. I’m just that precious. You can be too. 

I’m writing this on Easter Sunday, in the midst of John Legend’s thus far pretty decent performance as the title character in ‘Jesus Christ Superstar’ – an Andrew Lloyd Webber musical that I have never seen. This production looks like it may have been outfitted from one of Kanye West’s fashion show, and that’s not an entire bad thing. That barely-there tank top is totally going to be my go-to item for this upcoming summer. Hello nip-slips… now on with the last Holy Week…

I’ve forced a lot of things in my life – paperwhite narcissus, forsythia, cherry branches, my ass into a pair of tiger-patterned velvet pants – but I’ve never forced anything quite like I’m trying to force this spring into being. 

Despite the cold, warmer winds floated in the dreamy music of Cigarettes After Sex. 

The changing curves of a bouquet. 

The stairway to heaven may be red. 

Plans for the spring smudge were delayed by a bad attitude. 

Annual Easter mayhem by a purple-tulle-collared rabbit. 

Full-frontal male nudity in all its Easter glory. 

Beware the evil Easter bunny! He will snatch you up with his devilish grin and you will be destined to live a life shrouded in purple tulle forever after. Such was the likely nightmare scenario being played out in my mind as my Mom made me sit on this frightening creature’s lap one Easter season. It was at the now-long-gone Mohawk Mall, but I still remember it distinctly, and the expression on my face betrays how terrified I was.

Now it is a favorite photo of all those who love nothing more than taking the piss out of me (the numbers of which grow exponentially larger with each passing year it seems). Anyway, enjoy it now. I do. And even though I still get a little anxious and herky-jerky when one of these things is on the loose (in a mall or restaurant at this time of the year), I’ve mostly made my peace with the big bunny. Happy Easter everybody!

Along with spring cleaning, I usually do a sage smudging around this time to drive out all the negative energy and bad spirits. This year I found a sage and lavender smudge stick – there’s no reason why it shouldn’t be as pleasant an experience as possible, and lavender makes everything better.

It is most definitely a therapeutic exercise, done as much for superstitious peace of mind as it is for spreading some scented smoke throughout the house. It’s almost scientific, the way I plan and execute a proper household smudging. Starting at one end of the attic, I work my way through the house, leaving windows open at integral positions, allowing for the bad juju to escape, waving my sage and lavender wand like some enchanted wizard, driving the darkness away. By the time I reach the basement, the house is filled with the sharp incense of the sage, and a silence that somehow feels more peaceful than before the smudging began. It’s all in my head, or maybe it’s something more. Regardless, there’s power in ritual. Strength in tradition. Peace in the tried and true practices that force us to pause in the ever-quickening tick-tock of the calendar clock.

We are setting the stage for spring.

It is my favorite production.

I’ve passed this building and these stairs a thousand times, but only on a recent trip to Boston did the light catch it just right to reveal the beauty of the intersection of humanity and sky. The brilliant blue of the day (which would prove to be fleeting as the sky soon faded back into winter gray) finds reflection in the windows of the building, while the newly-painted stairs ascend ever-upward, like some fantastical Mary Poppins world that is partly-drawn, partly-imagined, partly-painted, and partly-real. Chimney smoke and chalk drawings. A step in time and the string of a kite.

A wonderful weekend has come to a sunny but still brisk close, and I am spent before the work week has even begun. A dinner and show in Saratoga on Friday followed by Skip’s 40th birthday gathering on Saturday made for a fun and filled couple of days. Spring is peeking around the corner. I feel it. I sense its coming. But first, the last week in a  super-brief recap…

It began on a love-filled note, ‘Love, Simon’. 

Still there is snow.

The verdict on making risotto in a slow-cooker. 

And still more snow. 

A fragrance for spring By Kilian: Straight to Heaven. 

Get up on the dance floor!

Dem Beats got me out of my seat. 

Hunks of the Day included Caleb Marshall, Derek Kaplan and Ricky Rebel. 

I love the way freshly-fallen snow looks on certain things: trees, barren ground, fallen grasses, or faded fences. I’m less thrilled when it covers those items that are typically part of the summer scene: flower pots, pool ladders, or garden tools. Then it just makes me sad. As long as there is snow on these things summer will stay well away.

There’s a certain poetic sadness to this, something that rings of a ‘Grey Gardens’ sort of forgetfulness. Time moves on, covering and uncovering our lives, slowly taking its toll on all of us, irrevocably moving in the only direction it knows: toward decimation and ruin. Nothing gold can stay.

On the flip side, nothing frozen can stay either, not in these parts. Soon enough we will be complaining about heat and humidity, stinging mosquitoes and picnic-crashing flies. All those things sound like heaven right now…

It’s time for this to be over.

It’s officially spring.

It started two days ago in fact, so this needs to go.

Like, yesterday.

I don’t care how pretty it is.

There’s a time and a place for everything.

This has overstayed its welcome.

Keeping with the lighter touch of late, this recap will have to suffice for the whole day – and a few more after it. New posts will resume on Thursday – and they’re going to be good! Until then, why not take another look at all the fun stuff that happened in the past week…

It all  began on the day that Skip turned 40.

There was more snow, when it was the last thing any of us wanted. 

The world championships of Hunkdom, in one spectacular pairing. 

When winter weeps, things get beautiful. 

An Irish meal fit for a leprechaun. 

An Irish tune fit for a forest stroll. 

Lighter days ahead in service of a new project. 

Adam Levine celebrated his birthday in these birthday suit GIFs. 

Hunks of the Day included Tomasz Schafernaker, Fredrik Eklund, Thomas Brady and AJ Pritchard. 

As top secret work continues on a new project, you may notice that posts are lighter and more scant than usual. I make no apologies for this. We each must do what feeds the heart. At the brutal end of a winter that sees no end in sight, a new project has become my lifeblood and purpose, and I’m thrilled at this one. Because of such work, however, I will not be able to post as much as I usually do. 

Here, you can see what a project takes out of me, and when you peruse the few that are currently up here, may you find it in your own heart to forgive my absences. 

• StoneLight ~ 2007
• The Circus Project ~ 2008
• A Night at the Hotel Chelsea ~ 2009
• A 21st Century Renaissance: The Resurrection Tour ~ 2010
• Bardo: The Dream Surreal ~ 2011
• The Delusional Grandeur Tour: Last Stand of a Rock Star ~ 2015

Verdant slopes stretched out for as far as the eye could see, dotted with lakes and streams and all sorts of natural sparkle. Winds careened through the high perch on which I found myself, lying upside down and kissing the Blarney Stone as some Irish brogue held onto my legs so I didn’t tumble to the ground far below. A quick peck, that’s all I gave, but it was enough. The gift of eloquence had been bestowed. 

I stood up, righting my vision and stance, and looked back over the land. Lush and green, it calmed and quieted the most tumultuous heart. My coat flew around me – long, black and flowing, it shrouded and cloaked like a living shadow. I walked down the tiny spiraling staircase etched roughly in stone. Peace and paradise. 

A song comes to mind, one that would have done well for that moment so many years ago. Can one insert a song into a memory that has already been made? I’m not sure. We shall attempt it. 

Even at this late stage of my gardening game, there are still ample opportunities for surprises. It’s what keeps gardening so interesting for me. After three decades of my hands in the dirt, there is still so much more to learn and discover. Take this weeping larch, for instance. I thought for sure it had three seasons of beauty to offer (and that in itself is two seasons more than most plants) but it turns out it has a full four, as evidenced here.

In the spring, it is a gorgeous bright green, its leaves (deceptively shaped and structured like an evergreen tree) are soft and supple, and as its foliage fills out, the radial form bursts like verdant fire blossoms. By summer, it matures into a slightly deeper green with a tinge of silver to lend it coolness on the hottest days, and by fall it sets itself on fire in a rich amber glow that ripens to the edge of rust.

Somehow, in all this time, I’ve managed to miss the magic of a sticky snowfall that clings to its architectural form, clumping like Christmas ornaments on the weeping strands of bark and stem. I stumbled upon it the other day when taking pictures of the latest storm in the backyard.

I live for beauty that takes one by surprise – an unexpected delight at the end of winter.