Category Archives: General

One of the easiest yet least-heralded ways of viewing a solar eclipse is through the shadows that the sun casts – you can see little crescents on the ground when an eclipse or partial eclipse is happening. Along that same vein, the tell-tale sign that something was not right in the sky was the mid-morning sunlight that landed on this blanket and chaise in the attic.

It was amber in hue – the sort of deep, rich shade that usually only appears in summer sunsets at the end of hot days. Yet here it was, landing after being bent and battered by the smoky haze that was still carrying from fires in Canada. Another sign that the world was not quite right, and an acrid one at that, which I found out after stepping outside for a quick garden walk at lunch, only to be encountered by a heavy atmosphere of cough-inducing nastiness. 

After a season of horrendous allergies, this is another setback to the start of summer. I am not here for this sort of atmospheric rollercoaster. 

Driving from Ogunquit, Maine to Albany, New York yesterday was one of our more uneventful and light-of-traffic trips in many years, but the closer we got to home, the cloudier and thicker the air looked. By the time we returned to Albany, the sky was a queasy sort of peach and gray, and when the sunlight could get through it landed in sickly shades of amber and salmon – the stuff of sunsets but much too early in the day for that to be a good thing. The lawns looked like the dried and desiccated stretches of August and early September, and everything felt like it was coated in dust and pollen and dangerous particulates. 

Before unpacking most of our bags, I hopped back in the car and dropped off some food treats from Maine to my parents in Amsterdam. Along the Thruway, the sky looked even smokier – fires from Canada and all the rainless days conspired to create some very unhealthy air conditions. Back in upstate for just a few minutes, and I was already clamoring for the wet sea of relief that a rainy weekend in Maine had provided. Suddenly that rain felt very welcome. 

I turned up Taylor Swift and tried to channel the happier parts of summer. When I got back home for the second time that day, the sky finally threatened rain with dark clouds and rumbles of thunder in the distance. Lightning flashed and a blessed blanket of rain began to fall. I walked up into the attic to hear the rain fall there. In the calm of a storm, I began my daily meditation, indulging in the return to home, the return to our regular schedule, and the return to life after the renewal of a vacation. More on that fun trip in later posts… 

The month of June is at hand, and so our posting schedule gets a little lighter and breezier as I spend more of the days outside and less in front of a lap-top. There won’t be a full summer break as I did a couple of summers previously, but there will be a shift away from volume and length, because, well, summer hair, don’t care. On with the weekly recap…

Stars in dappled sunlight.

Peony explosion.

A summer season starts early because we need it now.

And summer deserves a second part.

The unforgettable christening of Jaxon Layne.

Triple trouble with the twins.

A rare shade of yellow in a peony.

Back in the pool days.

When summer’s a knife.

Dazzlers of the Day included Cristiano Ronaldo, Kylie Minogue, and Aaron Henrikson.

Andy opened the pool early this year, and he kept it heated for the sporadic and occasional stretch of 80 degree days, which we’ve been blessed to have already had. Now that I’ve reached the age where my own back is giving out and unleashing its own pain, I find the pool immensely therapeutic. I wasn’t even trying to feel better when I jumped in a few weeks ago, but as I spent an afternoon swimming and gliding through the water, I felt the release of gravity pulling down on everything, and when I settled in for bed that night the difference was discernible. Whether it allowed for a full relaxation of any lingering back spasms, or provided just the right movement or stretch motion to relieve something, it felt wonderful. Since then I’ve tried to get in at least once a day, weather permitting, to find similar ease.

My how far we have fallen from the days of seeing whether we could drunkenly keep a burning citronella bucket lit while plummeting down a rickety water slide (for the record, I could, and I did, and there was wax in the water for the next week). I prefer these days to those.

Summer is usually the time for a sun-drenched entrance of bombast and glee, a reflection of the sunny season at last at hand and a celebratory marker of a stretch of ease. That is still the case here, but I’m tempering this early/late beginning with a quieter start, leaving room for build-up and excess later on if we’re still up for it.

The summer season unofficially began last weekend when the Memorial Day holiday opened things up. We would normally have spent that weekend in Ogunquit, but our favored place was booked so we opted to wait a bit. We always missed the opening of the peonies that weekend anyway, so it was nice to be home for such a happy event. Now we can kick-off summer on the blog on this first day of June, extending the season beyond the summer solstice because we need it now. September comes too soon…

The song for this summer post is an old-school Mariah Carey tune, given an intentionally slowed-down twist to ease into things. (Come back for Part 2 and the classic version a bit later.) Some summers begin slowly, requiring room to grow and evolve. We all want sun and beach and sand and warmth instantly, without realizing the joys and charms of these early days. Cool mornings and nights will be the stuff of dreams once the first stretch of heat hits – no need to rush into all of that just yet. A proper summer employs a bit of laziness, some seductive hesitation and holding back. It pauses and waits, unfurling its splendor only when it’s absolutely ready to shine.

This summer will cast its spell both by our pool in upstate NY and in Boston where our BroSox Adventure and a possible Madonna concert (assuming she shows up) are scheduled to take place – between the two there are differing atmospheres, each striking in its own way. Summer in the suburbs is calm and tranquil and easy – lounging by the pool, languidly strolling through the yard, and watering the gardens are how that usually goes. Summer in the city is usually more dramatic and extreme – finding air-conditioned respite in retail, delicately walking through shady nooks and secret gardens in the South End, and drinking endless mocktails in shadowy, cool lounges.

Peaceful pockets of beauty and light are what I seek out when the heat of summer approaches. This sort of green freshness is prevalent right now, making the days a joy to experience as they unfurl. Dappled sunlight on the four-pointed stars of the Chinese dogwood merge celestial bodies as light and structure shifts. As shadows play before and behind green leaves, this is a peek into peace, into tranquility. It demands a stillness – a pause in the fast pace of a late-spring day. It’s all moving so quickly now – seedlings emerging in the span of a few hours of heat and sunshine, and other plants wilting before the sun moves completely across the sky – I do what I can to inhabit the moment. 

Our glorious month of May rushes toward its climactic conclusion as the garden explodes with some of our favorite flowers, such as these peonies. As I write this, the spicy scent of our single tree peony bloom – cut before it flopped to the ground – is wafting my way from its pride-of-place on the dining room table. These are the days… on with the weekly recap:

It began with apple blossoms in the air. 

A ghost called up from the pavement.

It was the 90’s, don’t blame me for this ensemble, or hair.

The beauty of a bundt.

Double the bunny power.

This is not ok.

Beautiful, damned and back in vogue.

A letter to my godson on the occasion of his christening.

Lunch at the War Room Tavern in downtown Albany.

A pampered life produced a pretty peony for the present moment. 

Spread the word, amplify the message, and buy these books.

Dazzlers of the Day included Alan Cumming, Arielle Jacobs, Jose Llana, Justin Rose, Halle Bailey, Bryan Batt and Erik Bottcher.

We often have a rabbit present in the yard at this time of the year – well, several, but very rarely do we see them at one time. On a recent afternoon, however, I was watching one rabbit under the lace-leaf Japanese maple and making sure it wasn’t munching on the hosta when Andy called me in to see another one in another part of the yard. Walking forward a bit more, I saw the one under the maple hop over to the other one, and then they both took off like rabbits usually do. 

These two are bit more tame and far less timid than the ones we usually encounter. I’m not sure if that’s  good or bad – time will tell if they devour our garden. They are nowhere near as destructive as a groundhog, but they can cause some damage, as everyone needs to eat. For now, they are welcome to munch on all the weeds and extra-long leaves of the lawn, and I’ll throw in some of the fountain grass and cup plant leaves as they both need major cutting back. 

Indulging in a bit of nostalgia in this recent post had me briefly revisiting an old photo album, something I’m not wont to do because dwelling in the past is not usually conducive to living in the present. Still, it has its fun and merits every once in a while, and the older I get, the more past there is to dissect. Speaking of dissection, let’s do a bit on this photo because there’s a lot of things happening here, and none of them are very good. In case you didn’t notice, here’s what I see:

• I’m pointing to my ass in a lame visual joke to pretend I’m getting a tattoo there. (Pause for guffaws.)
• There is a cigarette in my mouth, and this was probably one of those Bidi cigarettes that my friend Chris and I favored at the time like children. 
• My hair. My hair is platinum blonde, because everyone should be blonde at one point in their life. That was mine, and it only worked well once the roots started growing in. And even then, it probably didn’t work. 
• That signature seven-button polo shirt from Structure, where I worked at the time. Why seven buttons? That was the tag line promoting them, and there was no satisfying answer. 
• The platform shoes in black suede, which wouldn’t be out of fashion today actually.
• There is a plaid flannel shirt tied around my waist. THERE IS A PLAID FLANNEL SHIRT TIED AROUND MY WAIST.

Questionable lewks aside, that was a fun summer. It was 1997 and I was visiting my friend Chris in San Francisco on my Royal Rainbow World Tour (the ultimate exercise in sublime delusion). We were young, we were foolish, and we clearly didn’t give a fuck what we wore or how we wore it. Some things never change. 

Is Kinder a candy, or maybe an online dating app for kangaroos or koalas? I don’t even know anymore. This slightly-spooky piece of garbage/pop-art was staring up at me from the asphalt of a parking lot, and it demanded a closer inspection. Scuffed and scratched, the vaguely-painted face looks downtrodden but defiant – the very essence of mustering some element of prettiness in the name of survival. Like all of us at this point, the face may be looking for rain, for something to wash the dirt of the world off in a vain grab for recaptured beauty.

As our favorite month of May enters its final full week, attention has shifted from the indoors to the outside, frost warnings and freezes be damned! I won’t waste precious time and space by droning on – here’s your weekly recap:

This can’t be love.

Mother’s Day love.

This is nothing but a dildo and we need to stop pretending otherwise. 

A not-so-secret garden room fragrance.

Beautiful valley denizens.

A tale of two lilacs.

Flower bed for a naked man.

New bag, old cologne.

Planning for retirement, almost a decade in advance.

The shirtless jogger looking for love will never do.

Dazzlers of the Day included Manny MUA, Randy Rainbow, Martha Stewart and Christine Sun Kim, 

The scenario depicted here is one of life’s more infuriating moments, and it’s rampant on the Mass Turnpike whenever I’m trying to get to Boston. For those times when you need some constructive rage to light a fire under your ass, check out this Madonna-fueled post. And when you need to cool down, calm down, and slow down, revisit this post when I managed to turn the road rage off. I’m not always able to do it, so reminders like this are helpful. 

Let this be an aspirational Sunday night.