On certain mornings, when the sun once again refuses to show up, and rain is on the wind, and forecast is for further grayness, a cup of tea is the only way to ease into the day. Loose leaf tea has always been an exercise in particulars that felt too precious to fully enjoy, but on this morning I embrace the ritual, even the little loose leaves that escape their mesh cage. In such imperfections there is beauty, and a reminder that we can go a little easier on ourselves when the sky is overcast, when friends have just departed, when the world seems a little shaky on its axis.
We shall name such times the Tuesday tea blues – not as dire or depressing as Monday, but perhaps sadder for the dullness and unremarkability of it all. Monday is supposed to be dreary and onerous – we expect a little more from Tuesday and are perpetually disappointed when the day drags.
This pretty little bunch of dried flowers and herbs makes for a calm and subdued cup of tea – a brief bit of coziness, because some summer days feel more like fall.
Not even the overload of rain could stop our little suns from blooming in the backyard, and this year all that rain means that the cup plants have reached towering proportions. These flowers were barely able to be captured by me, as they’re about two feet taller than my head, and on the overcast days we’ve had of late they’ve been all the sun we’ve seen.
Andy has seen that the gold finches that favor the eventual seedpods have returned as well, scoping out future meals and lending another dash of cheerful yellow to the drab days. Summer continues – muted and subdued – but still shining in the petals of the cup plant.
Saved again by the prince of friends – and out first official overnight guests since COVID hit – the rainy weekend had brief portals of sunshine, but a sustained sense of happiness and reunion. More on that lovely visit later, for now we begin the week with a now-typically-overcast recap for Monday morning.
The eerie haze felt more appropriate to fall than what is supposedly the height of summer, but this season has already gone off the rails with more rain than I can ever remember, all weekend being complete washouts, and all hope of a sunny warm summer down the proverbial and literal drain (when the thing isn’t clogged). A heavy fog had settled overnight, and it was caught in the spiderweb seen in the juniper below. I love when nature echoes itself like this – the grand landscape of the fog captured in the intricate labyrinth of a spider’s silken web.
Summer mornings were once characterized by the open blooms of the morning glory, back when the main concern of the day was whether or not I’d take lunch by the pool or on the patio. I’d love to have such a decision be the only worry of the afternoon, but alas there are more pressing concerns, and adulting must take place even in these dog days of summer. That doesn’t mean there can’t be morning glories, and I passed these while on a quick lunch during an office day. They usually close by early afternoon, but the day was overcast, as most of our days lately have been, so this one was still open, twirling its pin-wheel design like a little gay boy discovering a silk scarf for the first time.
This variety was the wild one we had growing rampant on the fence between our garage and the neighbor’s garage. They offer these blooms of pale lavender and white, in a smaller size than the traditional blue version that gets all the usual, well, glory. I’ve always preferred those blue varieties, so accustomed was I to the one seen here that anything else seemed rare and exotic. Life is so often about perspective. On their own, showcased and framed correctly, these are magnificent in their own right.
When someone indicates that their inspirations are, and I quote, “gypsies, pirates, circuses, ‘70’s porn, ‘30’s glamour, and the National Enquirer” then I feel very strongly that they should be my friend. Genius photographer Dusti Cunningham references all that and more in the body of work he has amassed since departing an immaculate single-wide trailer in Kansas and landing in the sun-soaked mad-fantasy-land of Los Angeles. Counting Dolly Parton and his mother as wig-wearing heroes, Cunningham has made a name for himself with his unique vision.
In such uninspired times as these, when escapism and fantasy comes tinged with darkness and underlying tension, Cunningham’s work is a fitting embodiment of the multi-layered existence we all seem to be navigating. Earning the Dazzler of the Day is adding just another bit of shine to his luminous inspiration. Check out his website here.
“Now is no time to think of what you do not have. Think of what you can do with what there is.” ~ Ernest Hemingway
A weekend spent with a musical family shouldn’t go by without some theme song, but the puzzling realization that we hadn’t gotten around to finding such a song left me in a panic as I was almost back home from Connecticut. As if the universe sensed this hole in our usual mode, ‘Hey Soul Sister’ came on the stereo and it felt as fitting as any other, mostly because the ukulele harkened to our previous visits, and the sweet melody had a summer tinge of happiness that belied the rain that bookended my visit.
Visiting Missy and Joe has been a tradition of mine since they started dating. These weekends away were the perfect escape, even when I wasn’t showing off on tour or promoting some lunatic’s project. When they settled into their family home in Connecticut, and their two boys were old enough to allow for visits, we started making a summer visit an annual tradition, one that was derailed with everything else last year. This past week, I tentatively returned to the tradition begun so many years ago, a return-to-basics weekend that marked their first non-family guest visit, and I was happy to oblige.
YOUR LIPSTICK STAINS ON THE FRONT LOBE OF MY LEFT SIDE BRAINS
I KNEW I WOULDN’T FORGET YOU
AND SO I WENT AND LET YOU BLOW MY MIND…
It began with the downpour of remnants from a tropical storm, set to move quickly through New York and Connecticut just as I was arriving – which meant that my entire ride took place in a deluge of rain, but the backroad route I took was so pretty it didn’t matter. Of greater concern was the fact that the only road that seemed to grant access to their area was closed because of a newly-fallen powerline. (I would have normally gone right past the sign because I knew no other way to get there and GPS was repeatedly insisting I take this road while offering no alternative routes, but I actually saw the line lying in the middle of the road and was sure I’d be electrocuted if I rolled the Mini Cooper over it. Andy would also kill me if I got burn marks on the ice princess blue.) A quick call from Missy had her guiding me over dirt roads and questionable terrain, but within minutes I was right as rain, triumphantly returning in a floral and bird print peasant blouse with palazzo pants and fascinator. As one does in Connecticut.
YOUR SWEET MOONBEAM
THE SMELL OF YOU IN EVERY SINGLE DREAM I DREAM
I KNEW WHEN WE COLLIDED
YOU’RE THE ONE I HAVE DECIDED WHO’S ONE OF MY KIND
Julian and Cameron had each grown a foot in the almost two years since I’ve seen them last – a reminder that time away from children means missing out on far more changes than it does for adults. Luckily, I caught them before they grew too old for my silliness, and I made a promise to return in the fall to see what changes the summer will have wrought.
Julian is still a musical prodigy, while Cameron is sketching designs inspired by Jackie Kennedy Onassis and Princess Diana. His latest obsession is the ‘Material Girl’ song and video, so I made a little Madonna lesson the first priority. Someone has to teach the children about important cultural moments and milestones.
The rain lifted as I arrived, and I got to go outside to see the meditation pond that Joe had dug a few months earlier. There, a water lily was in bloom amid a burgeoning crop of water hyacinth and a couple of timid goldfish. Tranquility and peace reflected in the still water, and across the yard a sculpture of the Buddha watched over the proceedings with a mindful eye. Two kids and a dog named Queenie might not seem like the quietest set-up for a peaceful scenario, yet that’s somehow what transpired as the weekend gently unfolded.
HEY SOUL SISTER
AIN’T THAT MR. MISTER ON THE RADIO, STEREO
THE WAY YOU MOVE AIN’T FAIR YOU KNOW
HEY, SOUL SISTER
I DON’T WANT TO MISS A SINGLE THING YOU DO TONIGHT
Aside from all the gracious gifts left in the guest room – delicious bits of chocolate nut bark and caramel nut popcorn – the best present was the delight of the company and the tranquil peace of the place. It’s not something that can be forced, and I’ve only found it a few times, and with even fewer people. It’s always been present when I visit Missy and Joe, and there’s something sacred about finding such space in our dimming world. Whether it was in the bloom of a water lily, the way their dog Queenie went from barking up a storm upon my arrival to finding her way to cuddle on my lap every time I sat down, or the peels of laughter from the two boys, life found a way to slow down, smile, and take pleasant rest in this home-away-from-home.
JUST IN TIME, I’M SO GLAD YOU HAVE A ONE-TRACK MIND LIKE ME
YOU GAVE MY LIFE DIRECTION
A GAME SHOW LOVE CONNECTION WE CAN’T DENY
I’M SO OBSESSED, MY HEART IS BOUND TO BEAT RIGHT OUT MY UNTRIMMED CHEST
I BELIEVE IN YOU, LIKE A VIRGIN YOU’RE MADONNA
AND I’M ALWAYS GONNA WANNA BLOW YOUR MIND
Missy had stocked the kitchen with plentiful goodies from breakfast to dinner, cooking up a storm with a delicious salmon dinner the first night to a melt-off-the-bone favorite rendition of ribs on the last night. A side of Mexican street corn salad will easily become the new staple of the summer dining season, and likely beyond.
Joe showed me his bonsai and a container of carnivorous beauties like this Venus fly trap. He sampled some Tom Ford (‘Tobacco Oud’) and I eked out a win in chess (after Skip and Chris, he’s the third straight guy to fall victim to this queen), and as the first waves of the Sunday scaries started to descend come Saturday night, I knew I would miss this time in paradise.
THE WAY YOU CAN CUT A RUG, WATCHING YOU IS THE ONLY DRUG I NEED
SO GANGSTA, I’M SO THUG, YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE I’M DREAMING OF
YOU SEE, I CAN BE MYSELF NOW FINALLY
IN FACT, THERE’S NOTHING I CAN’T BE
I WANT THE WORLD TO SEE YOU’LL BE WITH ME
Nearing bedtime, I thought back to one of the first things we did after I arrived: a visit to the pond that Joe had made, and an examination of the water lily in full, gorgeous bloom. We talked of what it took to build such a pond, the science involved and the work, and in between the silences took their cadenced place, elongating and extending our peaceful time there. It was how the entire weekend went: a sense of mindfulness ran through every moment, no matter how many times we erupted into laughter at a crazy memory.
On that last afternoon, Missy and I sat for a moment in their front reading room. On my last visit, the room was in a state of empty flux – now it was fully furnished, with a few favored books on the shelves, and a cozy couch from which one could gaze into the front yard, or beyond into the dining room.
Sitting quietly with a lifelong friend is one of the few treasures we should all be afforded in our brief time in this world. We didn’t say much in that moment, and none of it was very important or memorable, yet somehow it managed to heal so much of the awfulness of the last year.
The next morning I made a promise to Julian that I would return in the fall.
HEY SOUL SISTER
AIN’T THAT MR. MISTER ON THE RADIO, STEREO
THE WAY YOU MOVE AIN’T FAIR YOU KNOW
HEY, SOUL SISTER
I DON’T WANT TO MISS A SINGLE THING YOU DO TONIGHT
“He did not say that because he knew that if you said a good thing it might not happen.” ~ Ernest Hemingway
“We are what we think. All that we are arises with our thoughts. With our thoughts, we make the world.” ~ Buddha
“You can search throughout the entire universe for someone who is more deserving of your love and affection than you are yourself, and that person is not to be found anywhere. You yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe deserve your love and affection.” ~ Buddha
“Thousands of candles can be lighted from a single candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened. Happiness never decreases by being shared.” ~ Buddha
Sparkling on the wrist and shattering the sun into a thousand splintered lights, a bracelet of glass beads embodies the beauty of summer.
Dangling from the neck, a sunny shade of tassels and beads circles a life-force, a flight of tiny canaries fluttering so quickly it looks like a necklace.
Summer mottles the mind, like the bottom of a pool.
Somewhere between the chives and the onions are these ornamental allium, grown solely for the beauty of their blooms rather than the taste or flavoring of its bulb or leaves. Beauty can exist as its own purpose in the world, especially in the garden. Personally, I admire such things – so many people want something more serious and meaningful, some substance behind the pretty face – while I’ve always considered gorgeousness an end and a goal unto itself.
These rain-kissed blossoms were nodding their heads in a Boston garden when last I was in town, and I caught them on the morning I was departing for home. A beautiful send-off, and incentive to return.
When last I was in Boston, I made a stop at the newly-renovated Newbury, which was formerly the Taj, where Andy and I had stayed for our wedding weekend. As such, it is a happy and sacred space for us, and whenever I’m in town I’ll make a stop to see what sort of flower bouquets the lobby and hallways have on display. This most recent visit found these hot pink and magenta orchids and calla lilies squealing with glee.
“Let him think that I am more man than I am and I will be so.” ~ Ernest Hemingway
When the sky is filled with clouds, when it’s unsettled and uneasy, that is summer’s reminder that drama comes at any time of the year. I prefer my drama sequestered only in the weather, so I will not complain too much, even as we’d like a few sunny days in a row.
The sun doesn’t know where and when its presence is felt. It shines and burns regardless of how or if its warmth and light arrives on earth, whether there are clouds and rain to block it, whether snow or sleet stands in its path. The sun simply shines. Even in the pitch black night, that sun is still shining. That leads me to a different perspective, and I like seeing things in a different light.
Andy and I both love a magnolia tree, just not the clean-up and mess that follows a heavy blooming season, so we’ve never put one in. (We also don’t have the space, even for the smaller varieties.) And so we watch this show from a distance, grateful for when we happen upon tree in bloom, and even more grateful when we happen upon a tree after its bloom.)
