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December 2016

Some weekends long to be drawn out for as extended a time as possible. (Most weekends actually.) The holiday stroll weekend is no exception to that, so here are a couple of bonus shots that didn’t make it into Part 1, Part 2, or Part 3 of my strolling recap. This is my partner-in-crime Kira, lounging for a brief fireside break at the wonderfully cozy lobby of the Lenox Hotel. No matter how rushed or busy I am in Boston, and no matter where I might be going, I always manage at least a walk-through of this grand hotel, especially around the holidays.

There’s also a little pop-up stand featuring some heavenly Beekman Boys products, and some signature lions named Logan. If you need a pause in the hustle and bustle of holiday shopping, do stop in and rest by the fire.

Sunday began in slightly less brilliant form than its predecessor. There was a light covering of clouds high in the sky, lending the day a muddled gray tinge. The sharpness of our sunny Saturday was muted, as if the universe was joining us in mourning the end of a weekend. We weren’t quite through, though, and a brunch at Boston Chops was the perfect start to the last leg of our holiday stroll.

We did some window shopping in the South End, but when you get to a window as pretty and sweet and colorful as the one below, you go in.

Filled with candy and confections and the catty guy from the Eagle, it was a surreal experience. A collection of temptations tinged with the innocent exuberance of childhood surrounded us, all of it intertwined with a slight danger like that which pervades the Nutcracker. Dark magic lurks on the cusp of holiday dreams, and sugar plum fairies can sometimes turn out to be meddlesome tricksters.

We tread across to one of our favorite holiday sights: a field of Christmas trees and wreaths whose scent signaled the happy arrival of the season. I paused to breath in the fresh pine, and all those Christmas eve memories came rushing back. This was what our holiday stroll was all about: memories old and new colliding in wondrous unison.

We crossed back to Boston Proper, where we edged along Arlington. Unaccustomed to the magic squirrels of the Boston Public Garden, Kira freaked out when she turned around to see one staring her in the face. I crouched down and took a few photos of this little guy, who seemed quite ready for his close up and almost ended up in my lap.

We stayed to the edge of the Garden, and made our way to Beacon Hill, and the stretch of charming shops that carry the magic of another era. Antique shops filled with sparkling jewelry, stationary stores bursting with holiday cards and wrapping paper, and bustling cafes overflowing with other shoppers looking for respite lined the street. We loitered a bit too long, and as we made our way back to the condo realized that Kira would have to take a later train. That boded well for making one last stop at the Copley Fairmont and its fanciful Oak Room.

Our holiday stroll had come to an end, but the season had only just begun.

Saturday marked our official stroll day, and we began where we ended last year: Cambridge. A sunny start to the day was fortuitous for the crowds at Harvard Square. Apparently Harvard was playing Yale in a football game, but we were headed in the right direction (away from Harvard and out along Massachusetts Ave. toward Porter, where several shops (and a pho lunch) awaited our wallets.

We began, as everyone should, with a gift or two for ourselves. I explained it to Kira like I was a flight attendant: you have to secure your own oxygen mask before helping anyone else. That gorgeous silk scarf I found at a Tibetan store was my means of securing my mask before I could help anyone else. Kira found two scarves, and then we were ready to consider aiding the children in our lives.

At Nomad, colorful and unique sundry dazzled our senses, as Kira found a gift for her daughter and I found something for a co-worker. The walk to Porter had been a long one (there was a T issue and Harvard was the last stop that morning) so even though it was early in our expedition, we were already famished and ready for lunch. Nothing beats pho for that.

After filling ourselves with that glorious bowl of goodness, we were back for serious retail action, backtracking to Harvard (and several more Tibetan stores) before traipsing all the way to Central Square. Hands filled with shopping bags, hearts filled with Christmas spirit, and shoes filled with tired and sore feet, we hopped on the Red line back to Boston, where both of us needed a quick break before dinner.

The sun was just starting to descend, the last rays of it draining from the bedroom as the streetlamps flickered to life outside. We changed for a fancy belated-birthday dinner, and took in the moment. These were the in-between times that I cherished most, the moments everyone seems to forget, but that form the bulk of living when you think about it. We would have our fancy dinner and cocktails, and we would toast to our holiday stroll and long-past birthdays, but the real happiness was everything that led up to that.

There was one more morning left, and Sunday is always a wild card when it comes to the holiday stroll…

You know what they say about the best-laid plans.

For this year’s holiday stroll Kira and defied (or perhaps embraced) that adage, turning it into a set of no-laid plans. Unsure of whether we could get together again before Christmas, we decided to play it safe and make our annual Holiday Stroll a couple of weeks ago. We just happened to make the decision the night it all began, which meant no itinerary and no set plan, not even a loose one. That wasn’t a bad thing though, and it was sort of how we started doing these strolls in the first place.

I arrived in Boston on Friday afternoon, and it was a gloriously sun-filled day. After cleaning a disgusting toilet and going crazy trying to find a bunch of missing towels, I realized my brother had been there last, and once again I was cleaning up after him. Not one to let such common disappointments mar an otherwise-hopeful holiday stroll, I set my mood aright by setting up the limited holiday decorations I started collecting last year. Once the lights were on, and a glass of wine was poured, I felt the holiday spirit. Kira arrived long after it was dark, and we headed into Chinatown for a bowl of hot soup.

In many respects, it’s the night before any holiday stroll that feels the most special. There was a brisk breeze, tempered by the steaming bowls of soup before us, and, later, a whiskey cocktail at the Mandarin Oriental.

Better than any other time of the year, the shop windows were decked out in their holiday displays – whimsical, enchanting, imaginative scenes – the sort of thing that would tickle my childhood fancy more than any real gifts beneath the tree could ever capture. We paused and looked into the pretty portals, and the innocence of the season, no matter how much jaded commercialism had crept in through the years, touched me once more.

Then it was time to go back to the condo, and a viewing of ‘Meet Me in St. Louis’. I had neglected to bring our standard holiday fare ‘The Man Who Came to Dinner’ so this would have to do. Our holiday stroll had unwittingly begun, and we were both asleep before they even reached the Halloween scene.