At the time of this posting the first format of Madonna’s dance hit collection – ‘Finally Enough Love‘ – will have been released, the perfect soundtrack to the summer that’s ahead. The full 50-song set drops later in August, and Madonna has been back in the promotional spotlight, performing at a Gay Pride event tonight to get us all pumped for the new release. While I’d prefer new music, Madonna’s classic dance vibes will easily do for the summer. ‘Vogue‘, ‘Turn Up the Radio‘, ‘Celebration‘, ‘Music‘, ‘Ray of Light‘ and ‘Express Yourself’ have all formed the backbones of summer sounds over the last three decades. Get up on the dance floor!
His fashion site just launched some fabulous terry cloth shorts, and ever since I was a kid celebrating a birthday at Burger King in a terry cloth romper, I’ve adored the fabric, especially for summer. For Fabio Bonavento, combining fashion and feel-good moments is one of life’s greatest pleasures. He earns this Dazzler of the Day feature for all of his creative endeavors, more of which can be found here. His Fafabon brand celebrates a lifestyle of inclusivity and pride, perfect for this particular month.
These are some of the happiest little flowers, opening just as the summer season begins. Called ‘sundrops’ by some, for obvious reasons, and ‘evening primrose’ by others, for the way they open mostly at dawn or dusk, and Oenothera by a plant-loving nerd like myself, they are, no matter what you call them, bright and cheery harbingers of the sunny season.
They can also colonize a patch of the garden quite quickly, perhaps too quickly if you have strict boundaries. Personally, I like a tough little cookie, especially when it brightens a summer morning.
Not-quite-fresh from Ellen’s garden, where he portrayed Nick the Gardener a few years ago, Billy Reilich has entered the OnlyFans world, where he’s been greeted with the expected reception someone well-built and handsome demands. That’s more than enough to crown him Dazzler of the Day, and second acts are always welcome here.
She’s been with us since we moved into our home twenty years ago.
When I realized we had a lamp post in our yard, I immediately went out and got a standard-issue clematis – the basic variety in plain purple that winds itself up and around whatever is available to climb (with some help) and comes back year after year if made decently comfortable.
Clematis follows the trajectory of many vines: the first year it sleeps, the second year it creeps, and the third year it leaps. It’s been leaping for a while now, and though there are years when I neglect it, or forget to tie it up during its main growth spurt in spring, it’s still throwing our flowers and beauty with reliable and consistent attitude.
Clem likes her arms and branches warm, high, and dry, while her roots enjoy shade and water. I’ve indulged her in that respect, planting a ground cover of sedum to keep her patch of earth shaded during the day, and I’ve been fertilizing her well to keep both sedum and her own roots happy and well-fed. Just a little effort brings forth spectacular blooms as seen here, made more remarkable for their appearance at eye-level, and welcome masking of a rather dour lamp post.
There is a small sliver of irony in this summer song, given the fact that I no longer drink wine, but others do, and summer is definitely a time for enjoying liquid nourishment, even if mine doesn’t include alcohol. Mocktails work just as well, and are better for keeping hydrated anyway. Drama arrives in a song, and has no need for hard drinks to aid in its pesky, if occasionally exciting, madness.
Strawberries, cherries and an angel’s kiss in spring
My summer wine is really made from all these things
I walked in town on silver spurs that jingled to
A song that I had only sang to just a few
She saw my silver spurs and said let’s pass some time
And I will give to you summer wine
Oh, oh summer wine
Strawberries, cherries and an angel’s kiss in spring
My summer wine is really made from all these things
Take off your silver spurs and help me pass the time
And I will give to you summer wine
Oh, oh summer wine
My eyes grew heavy and my lips they could not speak
I tried to get up but I couldn’t find my feet
She reassured me with an unfamiliar line
And then she gave to me more summer wine
Oh, oh summer wine
The era of grand and elaborate summer parties has long since departed. These days we keep our gatherings to a minimum. Summer is more enjoyable that way, and somehow there is just as much excitement. All it takes is a song, a breeze, and a couple of candles to light the night.
Strawberries cherries and an angel’s kiss in spring
My summer wine is really made from all these things
Take off your silver spurs and help me pass the time
And I will give to you summer wine
Mmm-mm summer wine
When I woke up the sun was shining in my eyes
My silver spurs were gone, my head felt twice its size
She took my silver spurs, a dollar and a dime
And left me cravin’ for more summer wine
Oh, oh summer wine
The pool glows differently when viewed through the lens of darkness and night, not unlike the different glow one gets from summer wine. While that view has shifted for me, the thrill of a summer night remains the same. Beauty and heat and moths drawn by the light, and the possibility of a midnight dip to quell the sweat.
It was during the summer of 2000 when ‘How We Used to Live’ by Saint Etienne came pouring out of the speakers of my stereo in the Boston condo, and I was packing for a week in Provincetown. To this day, the song signifies summer days, happiness, friendship, and now a nostalgic look back at how things used to be. For the first day of summer, I usually like to look forward and see what new song might inspire the season – this year we’ve been through so much already that revisiting a sound of comfort seems best.
A rose scented June
A rose he pulled in June
They’re full upon the lawn
The doctor came at dawn
An old daily care
And Suzie Banana Stand
Through frosted windowpane
Your father’s middle name
From a train
And everywhere the snow falls
Sail away, sail away, sail away, sail away
‘How We Used to Live’ is a nine-minute rollercoaster of summer calm and excitement, from a magnificently languid beginning to a little lite dance party that begins to build and kick in at about the halfway mark. Summer ebbs and flows in similar fashion, never entirely one thing or another, constantly changing and winking and evolving. This year it feels especially variable, with hints and shadows of projects possibly to come, and the upcoming 20th anniversary of this website, for which preparations must be made.
A veil of faded blue
A Ruben’s old curfew
One windy winter’s day
A Windsor market day
People say
Everywhere the snow falls
Sail away, sail away, sail away, sail away
Sail away, sail away, sail away, sail away
She’s moving down the seaside
‘Cause that’s where he comes from
He gave away all of her records
Is that where she belongs?
Better think it through
Remember who
Is there something new?
Or is it you again?
Summer, oh summer, how we have waited for you, how much hope and faith we have put in you, and how unfair it all is, for who could ever deliver all that we have wanted and asked? Summer is cruel too, and often unintentionally brutal, but we still love it so. And when have we ever needed an escape more than now? Summer allows for that, and we shall make it happen. Whether it’s a lunch by the pool, with some sweet and fizzy mocktail, or a night in the attic loft, lulled to sleep by the hum of the air conditioner and the pitter-patter of rain upon the roof, summer carries its secret delights.
So take your red gown
And go down to the dam
To do as you please
On the streets of your town
The whistling kind
Shake it out of your mind
It could be the day
When you finally say
Sail away, sail away
Sail away, sail away, sail away
Sail away, on and on, on and on
On and on, on and on, on and on, on and on
Such secrets go back over two decades, when this song formed the soundtrack to that friend-filled trip to Provincetown. Kristen and I took the ferry from Boston to Provincetown, beginning a week’s vacation in that magical place at the end of the world. While I don’t revisit the past as a rule, I often go back to this trip. We were in our early twenties, the world unfurled before us filled with all the hope and possibility that youth and luck and privilege affords, and we didn’t even know or exert our power. Summer left us happily in flux, not quite entering our career years, though the more ambitious among us had their eyes on a plan (that most certainly did not include me, who was back in Boston after an ill-fated move to Chicago, and just finding my footing again). This little excursion was a break I needed, to simply have fun, maybe enjoy a summer fling, and return to the city satiated and ready to get serious about something. It was a summer to let go, and we did.
Up the riverbank and under the viaduct
Causeway full of nice cars
The sand a distant dream
Across the riverbank
Cross the riverbank, don’t look back
I sail, you sail
(And on and on)
(To sail away)
I sail, you sail
(And on and on)
(To sail away)
Those carefree days come back to me in pieces now – snippets of a sun-drenched brunch, sipping a cocktail before the choreographed precision of afternoon tea, and lazily laughing with friends on the porch of an inn as the clocks struck midnight and we debated rallying for pizza or heading back to crash. We had no way of knowing that the memories we were making then would prove, for me at least, to be some of the happiest and most carefree I would ever make. Most people don’t realize that sort of thing in their twenties. I felt hints of it, little tugs at the heart that something special was afoot, but back then my heart attributed it to the possibility of romance and love – it never dawned on me that those friendships, those in-between moments, were the real stuff of life.
And so another summer begins, as summers from the past flash across the mind. Summer in a song, summer in a glass, summer in the splash of water falling from a tip of grass as the morning dew jumps away for the day…
Do you remember how?
(And on and on)
(To sail away and on and on)
Do you remember how we used to live?
Do you remember how we used to live?
Do you remember how we used to live?
Our 2022 BroSox Adventure is now in the books, so while I recover and recuperate from a fun and relaxing weekend away, let’s examine the week that came before as we enter the week of Summer Officiale. On with the weekly recap…
There was a time when we would walk through a meadow, admiring the wildflowers and lying down on soft mounds of grass, without worry of Lyme disease or fire ants, and the start of summer would signal nothing but hope and dreams. I can’t imagine lying down in a meadow now, and I mourn all those children who won’t have such a carefree sense of joy. Of course there are other joys that children today get, I just wonder how much of it is natural and how much is manufactured. Now I’m starting to sound like the old man I’m quickly becoming, and that was not the point of this post.
The meadow is the point. Because while the meadow may now have new inhabitants, good and bad, it remains largely the same – at least the idea of the meadow remains the same. These days, that’s sometimes all that remains, but it will have to be enough. It is an idea of summer freedom, of carefree moments, of sun and heat and happiness. For me, it’s a collection of childhood memories, and some adult ones as well, as summer visits for three months of every year, and we are constantly adding to our memory vaults if we’re lucky.
The meadows of my youth were mostly just fields that went unattended for a few months when school was out, but the glory of a meadow is how quickly it reclaims its form, even after being mowed down. I admire that resilience and ability to bounce back so quickly after attempted destruction. And even when shorn of her waving grains of future glory, the spirit of the meadow survives, locked in memory. Before this summer even arrives, I’m looking back at some summers that came before, and indulging in a little nostalgia.
After a certain age, every Father’s Day is special, and my Dad reached that age many years ago, so once again I’m offering gratitude and appreciation for the fact that he is still with us. My brother and I have been lucky to have had such a remarkable guy as our inspiration and role model for all these years. We love you Dad!
And to all the other Dads out there, Happy Father’s Day to each of you!
The pesky destroyer of our petunia patch was caught in the act of more destruction, as seen in this GIF and photo of a snack of ornamental sweet potato leaves. Cheeky and bold, this bunny has captured our hearts, and Andy and I are helpless to do anything but watch with amusement and adoration, even as it takes out half of the garden. Some things are worth sacrificing for a little joy, and a couple of petunias and a sweet potato vine are a small price to pay for such entertainment. And the culprit is so tiny and cute, who can be mad about it?
This scarlet bloom looks like a warning signal of distress, as our small patch of petunias has been rendered practically bare by the baby rabbit who is growing up in our backyard. But the bunny is so cute we can’t bring ourselves to get that mad, even as it strips our sugar snap peas a little more each night.
For now, I have to come up with a new plan for this rather prominent garden space, which I wanted to be filled with color but is thus far filled only with bare dirt and the beginnings of weeds which the rabbit naturally doesn’t seem to like.
It’s been five years since Andy’s Dad passed away, so on that anniversary we went out to dinner to honor the day, as Andy said it would be what his Dad wanted. This Balinese lemonade was my way of toasting a father-in-law who had always been exceptionally kind to me. Andy had the cocktail special of the day at his favorite restaurant, and we had a lovely dinner remembering his Dad.
As we kick off Father’s Day weekend, it is a good time to remember the Dads who are no longer with us.
Our almost-annual BroSox Adventure is happily upon us, as Skip and I head to Boston for a Red Sox game. I’m not sure who is looking forward to it more, as a couple of weeks ago we met up for some pre-planning sushi and he expressed his excitement over it as the traditional mark for the end of a trying school year. I’m certainly in need of an escape too, so this comes at a good time.
Aside from that, our expectations are different and more relaxed than they were eight years ago when we started this fun tradition. Since then, we’ve grown and evolved and so have our trips. Last year we branched out with a fancy night at the Mandarin Oriental, which I enjoyed a bit more than Skip, and it made for a memorable adventure. This year we are going back to basics, returning to the condo as our home base, and possibly venturing out to the seaport area for something new. Stay tuned for that recap…
