Whispers of summer sound on the most restless of winds.
Cherry blossoms dance before falling into the pool.
A harp and a piano do their own dance before a trumpet sings its own song.
They dance and sing to the month of May – the month of the cherry blossom.
At this early point, the stage is still being constructed for summer.
The main components are already in pretty place: sky and sun and water…
One of the more charming shrubs in the garden – the weeping larch – has sprouted its gorgeous whorls of leaves, radiating sun-like bursts of varying shades of green.
This is what May means – a freshness, a beginning, a chance at something new.
The green shifts delicately in the changing slant of the sun, growing warmer as the daylight gradually depletes.
A favorite month for some of us, May begins in beautiful fashion, donning this floriferous coat of cherry blossoms amid wind and impending rain. Andy accurately summed up the scene by simply proclaiming that everything was blooming at once after weeks of stalled spring weather. It waited for so long, and now the petals are already falling away – the beauty lasts but a few scant days.
On this first day of May, I’m already afraid of how quickly it seems to be moving, and making motions to slow it as much as possible. I haven’t quite figured out how to successfully slow time like that – as much as I attempt to be mindful, to be fully present in the moment, to look around and pause and contemplate, making a memory, as best as I can, even as I feel the new memories disappearing as soon as they’re made.
And then I set some of it down in words, leaving them scattered here, who knows for how long, who knows for who to read, and maybe it lasts, and maybe it doesn’t.
Some people were born to be Dazzlers of the Day, while others beg, bother and bemoan to the point that I just give them the title to shut them up. Both cases are partly true today, as Jeff Urbanczyk – a fellow Amsterdam High School alum – finally and blessedly earns his first Dazzler of the Day crowning, fulfilling a years-long quest, with a life-long body of first-responder work as a firefighter to justify it. He recently retired as Battalion Chief of the Amsterdam Fire Department, where he had the distinction of being the longest serving executive (union) board member in Local 2825 history. As someone who honors and appreciates those who risk their lives to help others, this is a small bit of gratitude for everything he’s done for my hometown. Congrats Jeff!
PS – You can stop sending pictures now.
A Boston spring is always one of the best springs, and there is something more magical about making my way home through the Southwest Corridor Park when the apple blossoms are sweetly scenting the night air, and spring bulbs are blooming resplendently against the dark earth.
At the corner of our building, an American dogwood enchantingly begins its leafless blooming period like a flurry of white butterflies alighting on its branches. A Chinese dogwood was planted several years ago in the square in front of our entrance – the perfect choice as it extends the blooming season by several weeks, coming in right after the American variety finishes.
This little section of Boston, with a few benches, its flowering trees, and the verdant explosion of spring in full effect, works its charm quietly. For many years I took it for granted, brushing quickly by its subtle beauty in the rsh to get home or somewhere else.
These days it is a destination in its own right, my own ability to find the attractiveness in the smaller and quieter scenes a welcome and intentional shift to a new perspective. The second half of one’s life, already well underway should I be so lucky, is about such a change in perspective.
As if on cue, the lilacs have begun their blooming season – nostalgic and new all at once.
Preparing for this year’s wedding anniversary, our fifteenth if you’re counting, I made a quick trip to Boston last weekend to drop off some outfits and accessories, and pick up some food for our arrival reception this coming weekend. Maybe it was the fact that fifteen years had already passed, or the deeper foreboding idea of my fiftieth birthday coming up, but whatever the case I found myself engulfed in a strange sea of nostalgia.
That compelled me to wind my way to Quincy Market, where my Mom brought us on our very first trips to Boston when we were kids. The world had changed a lot since then, and this part of Boston was no exception.
What was once a bustling tourist trap, filled with bull market carts, shops and restaurants, this surety of cobblestone has slowly and steadily declined, with more empty store fronts and deserted carts than filled places. It was a reminder that you can’t go back, that you can’t recapture the magic of the past. There are newer and showier spaces now, but every once in a while I’ll return to this place, so steeped in history – mine and this country’s – and so riddled with memories.
Having charmed and entertained audiences for decades, Jean Smart is currently riding on a career high, having recently earned her sixth Emmy Award for her celebrated turn in ‘Hacks’. I still remember her fondly from ‘Designing Women’, and in addition to enthrallingly-varied appearances in ‘Frasier’, ‘The District’, ‘Mare of Easttown’ and ‘Watchmen’, she’s tread the boards of Broadway in ‘Piaf’ and ‘The Man Who Came to Dinner’. This marks her well-earned debut as Dazzler of the Day.
Andy got me this box of Peeps cereal as an Easter joke, but I actually ended up enjoying it.
It’s like a more colorful amped-up version of Lucky Charms (also not as awful as I used to think they were).
The real Peeps candy is nightmarishly sweet and awful, and I don’t really get a Peeps taste from the cereal, so perhaps that’s why it works a little better.
That said, once a year is more than enough, so let’s keep this Limited Edition.
Trye Sivan has made several splashes here over the years, starting with this Dazzler of the Day post. They’ve been fascinating the world ever since, as witnessed in this Troye Sivan appreciation post. Sivan also provided the summer anthem a couple of years back, with the driving ‘Rush’.
Confirmation was made when Shawn Mendes liked Troye’s butt in this post.
While he played no part in this week’s blog entries, Robert Irwin is fronting this weekly recap because, well, look. One more below, if you make it through the week’s worth of blog links first. (And if you must have more of Robert Irwin in his underwear, click here or here.)
Trans people are welcome here.
Who would write such a thing?!
The disappearing shoreline of upstate New York.
Brick and mortar stores are dead.
Those Crafty Lumberjacks know how to Dazzle.
Caleb Marshall in a jockstrap was enough to earn a Dazzler honor.
The stars line up and the bridge is beautiful.
A fairy finds himself in a forest.
An umbrella of ribbons would make Danny Elfman proud.
While these spring bloomers may seem like the earliest reward for working in the garden, they actually needed to be planted in the fall, then slumber for a full six months of cold and awful weather, so I’m not sure ‘early reward’ is entirely apt. Many people see the spring bulbs in bloom now and want to go out and purchase a bunch of bulbs to plant immediately, but that’s not the way it works. By the time fall rolls around, they’ve forgotten or lost interest or simply aren’t aware that that’s when you need to work to get spring results.
I act in similar fashion, though my version is more one of laziness and forgotten magic. By the time fall roll around, my garden drive has all but dissipated after half a year of watering and wedding and working. The magic of these spring blooms also feels like a distant memory, and I cannot smell their exquisitely light perfume to remind me. Thus I pass by the bulbs when they should be planted, and then I regret that I didn’t do more at this time of the year.
Perhaps overthinking is the real curse here.
Two scarves and an electric pink coat are all I need for a happy spring outfit.
Well, pants and shirt too I suppose, but who’s going to be a stickler for those details?
‘Tis the damn season for some bold color choices.
Most daffodils begin their blooming period in bashful form, especially when the weather is so changeable. They only unfurl their full splendor if they can be sure of some sun and warmth and stillness. I do not blame them in the least, and my natural state in times of uncertainty is certainly within the realm of all that is bashful.
This little blossom is at the early stage of its bloom, still looking groundward and holding its outer petals close to its corona. A shy first step that is full of hope and trepidation.
I often like this stage better than the fullest bloom, the same way I enjoy the night before a dinner or a party more than the actual event itself. It’s a happy way of prolonging the experience and making every moment matter.
“How can you have rivals when no one else can do what you do?” ~ Terrence McNally, ‘Master Class’
When I was younger, and far longer than the twenty years ago when this project was created, I had a much different reading of the opening quote here. Back then I took it with all the heady hubris of a twenty-something young man – young in almost every way.
Then time passed.
I grew up a little.
And a lot.
And I realized that the opening words are true for everyone.
When you realize that – truly and genuinely realize it, take it to heart and let it seep into your soul – you realize there’s no longer a need to compete. You step off the hamster wheel, you step off the scale, you step off the comparison bandwagon, and you are suddenly free.
‘Comparison is the ultimate thief of joy.’
Or, just mind your own fucking business.
Both are paths that lead to happier places.
I’m not quite sure what this has to do with Divine Diva Tour, or why I’m even writing it now, but posting this project from twenty years ago has me intermingling the past with the present. To ignore the evolution that’s progressed in these past two decades is to do a grave disservice to the riches of retrospect at hand.
These are the sort of riches that can never be found in a jewelry box or bank, they cannot be saved or purchased or bought, they can only be experienced.
Once upon a time I sold the story to myself that I was divine, and I believed it because I believed everyone was divine. Egalitarian hubris, perhaps. Vanity that candles itself out in the celebration, adoration and devotion to others.
And the shadow of manipulation that saw it all through glasses far darker than rose.
~ The Divine Diva Tour: A Fairy’s Tale ~
