One of our happier holidays, coming at the happiest time of the year, Mother’s Day arrives when Mother Earth is at her most full and beautiful – all promise and hope of summer lying just ahead, and oodles of lilacs and peonies about to burst forth in perfumed splendor. When I was a little kid, I’d go out on the Saturday night before Mother’s Day, sneak up the sidewalk to the large stand of ancient lilacs near the top of our street, and stealthily pull off a few branches of blooms. Hurrying back home with this stash of stolen flowers, I’d carefully and quietly slide in through the side door of the kitchen and put them in a vase, where Mom would find them first thing in the morning. Along with a hand-made card, this was the extent of my gift-giving at that young age, and it was the most I could do.
Spring nights are the salvation of the sleepless. I don’t mind being awake when the nights stay warm early into the morning, or when a warm front arrives in the evening and everything feels suddenly tropical. Here’s one for the insomniacs and sleep-deprived, those who find themselves unable to sleep because their minds are too bright with something else. It’s Ella Fitzgerald’s rendition of ‘Black Coffee’, a bluesy little song to help anyone through the night.
Black coffee Love’s a hand me down brew I’ll never know a Sunday In this weekday room
Their’s something noirish in the underside of this music, lying just beneath the surface, insidious like the disappearing tail of a cigarette’s smoky trail. A diabolical piece of music that seeps into the darkest corner of the night – shadow of shadow of shadow…
I’m talking to the shadows 1 o’clock to 4 And Lord, how slow the moments go When all I do is pour
Black coffee Since the blues caught my eye I’m hanging out on Monday My Sunday dreams to dry
Scary music, not the silly stuff of Halloween, something more sinister, slinking through the spring like a snake, slip-slip-lisp-slip snake-talk…
Now a man is born to go a lovin’ A woman’s born to weep and fret To stay at home and tend her oven And drown her past regrets In coffee and cigarettes
A cup of cold coffee sits on the table in the cold light of morning. Gray and muted, a different kind of noirish, and a more menacing one, because the morning is always the more menacing.
This year’s gift to Mom is our annual trip to Broadway for Mother’s Day, with tickets to see ‘Two Strangers (Carry A Cake Across New York)’ and ‘The Lost Boys’ – and while I’m looking forward to both, it’s doubtful that we’ll match last year’s triumvirate of shows that blew our minds (‘Gypsy’, ‘The Portrait of Dorian Gray‘ and ‘Maybe Happy Ending‘). I have to remind myself that comparison is the thief of joy, so these will have their time to stand alone, and going in with no expectations usually makes for a merrier experience.
I know little to nothing of both of them, which makes this year’s selections a bit of a gamble – chosen mostly by occasional word of social media and a spattering of critic reviews. We shall see what we shall see…
Right when I’d written off this year’s crop of lilac blooms as a bust, the backyard trees burst into bloom thanks to a heavy soaking of rain a few days ago. In the early morning, I went out to take a few photos, and it turned out to be the only part of the day that didn’t have rain. The lilacs seemed to know this, bowing their heads and biding their time until their long and lengthy thirst-quenching drink arrived to fill the rest of the day. While we needed the rain, I longed for riding into the sun…
The Boston Museum of Fine Arts has been doing their ‘Art in Bloom’ annual exhibition for fifty years (just like me!) and it’s one of the most whimsical scenes if you’re lucky enough to see it. Floral designers come up with arrangements and floral displays that are inspired by works of art in the museum. It’s a neat floral twist on classic artwork, and most of the time the artists, and their inspiration pieces, are so indelible that you can guess it without the captions.
The accidental iPhone shot seen above – blurred from the late-night lighting – reminded me of that concept – life imitating art or vice versa. I love the way it appears as some pastel or watercolor, an effect that isn’t easy to do with the autocorrect nature of phone cameras these days. Imperfection is life, imperfection is beauty, imperfection is genius. The actual intended photograph of a chartreuse-leaved bleeding heart plant is seen below. Which do you prefer? My heart leans toward the abstract, the wonder, the accident.
The trees hadn’t fully leafed out yet, aside from the brilliant chartreuse of the weeping willows, but this always give the area the look of possibility, room to expand and fill in as the summer season ushers herself in.
On this morning, we walked around the Garden, surveying the beds of tulips and flowering apple trees. Families of ducks and Canadian geese patrolled the water, but no signs of the swans this year.
This little Boston oasis is one of my favorite parts of the city – a space that completely takes you out of the concrete gray surroundings, and a welcome relief of green tranquility seen through the curtains of elderly willows.
We had a lunch at the Four Seasons, still missing the Bristol Lounge and its heavenly burgers and 12-layer chocolate wedding cake that brought us so much joy over the years (happily we were told a new restaurant was opening in that space in the next year or so). As we made our way back to the condo for an afternoon siesta, the rain returned – nothing heavy, just enough to keep us happily indoors for an afternoon nap until it was time for dinner.
For our second and last dinner of the weekend, we had reservation at Avra Estiatorio, where a crazy-good Greek menu found us partaking of the best octopus appetizer we have ever had – and so generously portioned that for the first time in decades we couldn’t quite finish it all. (I was hellbent on saving room for dessert, and they had a 16-layer chocolate cake that rivaled the elusive one we had at our wedding lunch in the Bristol Lounge 16 years ago).
It was a very sweet ending to a wonderful weekend of meals, and as the night had turned into a lovely one, we walked some of it off as we made the journey home.
The next morning, our bunny friend stopped by to see us off – a fond adieu from a favorite denizen of my favorite city.
Another anniversary weekend in the books, as a peony bashfully winked at us from behind its pink petals…
Boston bedecked herself in her usual May splendor – and all the city seemed to be in bloom – big, puffy clouds of Kwanzan cherry trees, all sorts of sweetly-scented ornamental fruit tree flowers, and mysterious lilacs that couldn’t always be detected but for their delightful perfume around every corner.
While our lilacs at home were taking a year off, Boston’s lilacs were putting on a proper show. Along the Southwest Corridor Park, all the flowering trees seemed to be conspiring to join in the parade of beauty, beginning with the American dogwood, showing off its sepals against bare branches for an ethereal effect that only the American dogwood can pull off.
Echoing its white elegance, the Korean spice viburnum perfumed the proceedings. Caught on the slightest breeze, this fragrance embodies spring, joining the lilacs for an olfactory explosion of merriment.
After decompressing at the condo for a while, it was time for an early dinner – early being the only available time lot for reservations at Maple & Ash in the Seaport. It was worth the change in schedule because the meal was fantastic – and this personalized menu joke was hysterical.
A lavender lemon mocktail fronts Andy’s more traditional cocktail – a match made in splendor.
The filets were melt-in-your-mouth delicious, tender enough to cut with a fork, and Andy said it was one of the best he’s had in years. Capping it off with dessert (I chose an elongated slice of chocolate cake that wouldn’t fit in a single photo no matter how much I tried) and Andy had this strawberry Chantilly lace cream concoction.
A sweet early ending to the first part of our anniversary weekend found us back home, cozily ensconced in warmly-lit rooms looking out over the fountain at Braddock Park… Boston’s enchantments enshrined once again in their magic…
Some years aren’t spectacular when it comes to the lilac bloom, especially when late winter storms kill off the trusting buds that showed too bravely and too early. It used to break my heart when that happened, especially considering how many winter days we spent waiting and watching for these precious blooms. After a few years, I learned that even when the weather conditions were kind and gentle, some springs simply didn’t produce a banner crop of blooms, as if their shows were too grand to produce every single year. That only made us love the ones that did appear a little more, taking a few extra moments to take in their exquisite perfume in ways that we might have foregone in more floriferous years.
Telling stories has always fascinated me, as much for the sharing of knowledge and understanding and something that might resonant with another person, as for the relief and lifting of a burden in the act of telling and sharing. Difficulty shared is difficulty halved, or some such shit. Certain songwriters share a love of sharing stories through their music. Mitski is one such artist, and this song says so much in just a few chords and lines. I love the way it opens up on so many levels, how it could mean so many different things.
I won’t leave you ’cause I still love you So it’s up to you if you choose to go In the meantime, sleeping by my side Our two cats, making sure I’ll be alright
As spring deepens, as the weather turns (please God maybe just a little warmer?) and as this space becomes more of an escape and an escapade in a world gone completely bonkers, I like the idea of trying out different stories, tales to take the burden off living this life. Fictional flights of fancy with some gems and jewels of the human condition to keep it all grounded, tethered to the heart of our emotions. Let me entertain you…
You say, “It’s so hard” But it feels simple to me It feels so simple to me So I’ve been trying to stop trying To be like someone you’d still like Maybe if I could, you already would
‘Cause I still love you, so I won’t leave you Guess it’s up to you if you choose to go In the meantime, rescues at my side Our two cats, both asleep by me tonight
When an artist combines music, beauty, and the natural world, it’s an alchemy that often results in the crowning of a Dazzler of the Day – which is why Ben Cosgrove is today’s Dazzler. A composer, pianist, and performance artist, Cosgrove creates and makes music that speaks to the landscape, geography, and the environment – weaving these worlds into an artistic creation that brings tender expression to how humans relate to the environment around them. Check out his website here for additional genius.
