The clouds started to roll in a little on Sunday morning, but we would somehow escape the rain until we departed. Once in a while the universe smiles like that. We slept in ~ a rare indulgence these days when the late start to the season has me scrambling on most weekends. Our reservations at the Bristol Lounge weren’t until noon, so we took our time getting up. There is luxury in simply lying in bed on a lazy Sunday morning.
There is luxury in a brunch at the Four Seasons too, and since that’s where we were headed we mustered the fortitude to face the day and carry on. Andy ordered an Uber and I documented the whole thing per request.
After 18 years, I’m finally starting to understand what sets Andy’s mind at ease while traveling: a good hotel (preferably with a suite) and a decent car to get us around. Coffee for waking and Cole Porter for listening. On this trip, three out of four isn’t bad.
For the occasion of our anniversary brunch, I opted for the same cologne I wore for our wedding day: ‘Green Irish Tweed’ by Creed. It’s a very special scent, a birthday gift from Andy, and I only wear it for our anniversary (I want it to last for life, and it’s a small bottle). I paired it with this silk scarf, which complemented my infamous jacket.
While we usually go for a low-key lunch (the Bristol burger is renowned for good reason), on Sunday there is only a brunch option, so we splurged for the decadent buffet feast (and I filled plates like the one you see below so many times I lost count).
After such gluttony it’s best to walk some of it off, and since the rain was holding off we went across the street and back to the Boston Public Garden.
One of the swans was swimming then, and we rounded the pond to find its rump in the air as it sought its meal. Echoed by an advancing swan boat, the real and the reproduced floated by one another in whimsical fashion while a stray duck photobombed the scene.
Around us the garden was in bloom. Sweet apple blossoms scented the breeze as white petals floated gently down to the ground, gathering like freshly-fallen snow. We made our way out just as more clouds rolled in.
We took our time getting back, as much from our full stomachs as by a reluctance to end the idyllic weekend. Everything is slower on Sunday. I wanted to extend it all and stay away from the real-world concerns and obligations that waited in New York. Consolation is found in the thought of returning in the summer. The beds will be changed then ~ filled with tropical foliage and perhaps the flaming flowers of canna or begonias. There will be another show to see, another restaurant to try, and another weekend of escape. Until then, there will be these memories.
