As a tried and true Virgo it pains me to say this, but sometimes the best weekends are unplanned and unstructured, especially when a snowstorm and the tail-end of an upstate New York winter are involved. JoAnn was scheduled to join us for a weekend of hygge when our cousin Tyler and his partner Kevin asked if we were available to host them for a night. Our home has always operated on the age-old adage of the-more-the-merrier, at least in pre-COVID days, so I added some extra food into the loose plan, and filled the house with spring flowers to combat the forecasted winter storm. 

In the fateful way destiny sometimes has of working things out, JoAnn arrived just minutes before Kevin and Tyler’s plane landed. For their arrival, I managed to tie everything up in a rosemary-festooned flavor palette, with a white bean rosemary dip that went with our pomegranate rosemary mocktails and cocktails. 

We eased into a Friday afternoon with the warmth and bonhomie of good friends that were also family, widening the circle as we set up for a dinner of a Moroccan vegetable tagine, some kimchi fried rice, and (my only cutting-corners move) a package of vegetable samosas from Trader Joe’s. Dessert was a Filipino babinka of sorts, and by the end of the night we were filled and satiated and sleepy. 

The next morning the world was completely white again, covered by snow, with more blowing and falling as the morning went on. I put together a quick, impromptu loaf of banana bread which filled the kitchen with its sweet aroma. We let it cook for the bare minimum then scarfed it down. Hygge comfort food to start the lazy day.

With any and all planned outings made impossible by the storm, we had fun and hilarity without doing much of anything other than hanging out and eating. JoAnn and I pursued some catalogs and books. Tyler, Kevin and Andy watched a few movies. In between we all talked and grazed on a charcuterie board that we somehow conjured from what was in the fridge. I also found a frozen batch of lumpia I’d made earlier in the winter, which we hastened to fry up and serve. 

Before we knew it was cocktail hour, and I recreated one of the most infamous creations that has rocked this house: the Amber Jewel. (The first time I made this for JoAnn and her entourage, we never made it past the entry room, and the rest of that weekend went by in a quick blur. I believe it was April and some of us went skinny-dipping before the pool had even been officially opened, but the rest has been intentionally erased from my brain.) On this day, Tyler and Kevin tried out the alcoholic version, while JoAnn and I had an Amber Jewel mocktail which still managed to bring back the memories.

A large pot of squash, mushroom, carrot and bok choy soup simmered on the stove top, while I boiled a batch of udon noodles for a hygge-like dinner. Andy did a quick baked ziti dish, and there was still some babinka left for dessert. As the kitchen filled with the scents of comfort food and the sound of laughter, we assembled at the dining room table for a Saturday evening meal. Somehow the day had passed pleasantly, and at times riotously, without us even leaving the house. 

Outside, the snow had finally stopped falling, while the plows made their reassuring groans as they passed and pushed the snow out of the way. Evening was at hand, and on the last night before the clocks pushed ahead, the blue descent of the bewitching hours lent our indoor sanctuary additional coziness. 

It passed too quickly, the way all unplanned moments of serendipity do, yet we were all somehow present for it, mindful of the magic at hand, embracing the moment, and each other, while the outside world still shook its clenched fists with winter rage. With love and family, we would not be bothered by it. 

The next morning we brushed JoAnn’s car off, and she was on her way, but not before sowing a few seeds of summer promise with the possibility of a Cape getaway. That Josie magic works its own wonders, weaving that tapestry of human heart-threads, and reminding us that the best of friends become our chosen family.  

Kevin and Tyler took Andy and I out for a lunch at Koto, as Kevin had never had The Koto Experience before, and it was right on the way to the airport. A bittersweet last hour together before they returned to Baltimore, and the promise to meet again soon. 

It will be spring in a few weeks, and the season of travel will ensue. A very happy thought, to close out a very happy weekend. 

Anyone can dazzle with enough glitter and feathers – it takes a truly talented artist to dazzle with words. Chuck Miller does just that, and where his words leave off, his photography takes over. Together, they compile a body of work that is layered with complexity, beauty and wisdom, all working in tandem to earn him this Dazzler of the Day feature. Miller has been a fixture on the Albany scene for years, and he was an integral part of the Times Union blogger scene back when it mattered. Luckily for us, he continues writing on his ‘Chuck the Writer’ blog (while also having written several books) and his award-winning photography is enchanting whenever and wherever it appears. For me, he’ll be a hero for posting these choice words for a certain Florida governor, but he’s been a champion for all people, especially those who don’t always have a voice. That he lends such eloquence and artistry to such expression is why he’s the Dazzler of the Day. (Glimpse a bit of his Pi Day writing below, then check out his site for the rest.)

Coming off a winter weekend with good friends and family, in which we found ourselves homebound and cozy, but still managed to lose an hour, is a conundrum entirely unfit for a wintry Monday morning. Instead, we shall take our usual look back at the week that came before, and eventually I’ll do a little write-up of all the fun we just had. 

A certain Times Union writer sent out a dishonest newsletter claiming I ended our friendship over Chick-fil-A, and only managed to soil her credibility in the process. (More on that later…)

Tea for taking time. 

Burning candle question.

Poking through.

Tulips on a Wednesday.

A post I very much did not want to write. 

Flowers of the sun.

All pretty, no prick.

Tough to chew, tough to swallow.

Social media society.

The contrary person.

Come back another time, we’re busy.

End of winter wonderland. 

Say what we will about the annoyance and agitation that any and all snowstorms may conjure at this point in the season, this recent snowfall was nothing short of spectacular, especially in the way the snow clung to all the branches and the wind left everything alone to be seen the following morning. On that day, my commute became a thing of wonder, and I was reminded of how beautifully haunting winter can be. That beauty was spellbinding, and it stilled the morning in the best way. Many times nature will lead one into mindfulness, forcing us to pause and take in the moment.

Here, in the hushed air of winter, when wind has decided to join the silence and put down its , we find the makings of mindfulness, I think of the Buddhist monks who can meditate in the snowy mountains of Tibet, seemingly unaffected and unbothered by the cold or precipitation, calmly finding their focus, generating all the heat they need in their breath and serenity.

We are busy hosting a few lovely guests this weekend.

Come back another time.

My current guilty pleasure/obsession is ‘The Gilded Age’. I want to be Bertha Russell, faults and foibles and failings and all. While I sadly won’t be squeezing into a corset or bustle anytime soon (never say never) it’s interesting to see how people behaved and communicated over a century ago. The means and mechanisms may have changed, but the same social cues and codes to indicate one’s location in society remain intact. And humans have a need to know where we are in relation to one another, even if that’s a fault that can only lead to unhappiness.

Today we make judgments and appraisals based on follows and unfollows, friending and unfriending, inviting or blocking: subtle social media motions that carry either a forbidding chill or a warming embrace. The game is the same, even if the apparatus is different.

I don’t place much stock in it, as labeling and putting people into categories has never been my jam. I trust my good friends know that too – and understand that a ‘like’ I’ve clicked on something they’ve posted should carry no more meaning than the lack of one elsewhere. My social media mode of operating is too whimsical and changeable to be bound to the rules of modern online etiquette. Still, it’s fun to watch and study the actions of those who do place importance on these subtle and insignificant maneuverings. Keeping a sense of amusement is the best way to navigate the social media world.

It came without much warning, only whispers on the wind and a few casual notifications, most of which went ignored at this point in the year. A few inches in March feel much different than a few inches in October. And so yesterday’s snowstorm, throwing more white stuff than wanted or anticipated, dumped its contents on a landscape that was just starting to show the very first signs of spring. Luckily, I wasn’t surprised or duped. Such late-season attacks are expected, and likely to continue throughout April. It’s not quite time to let down your guard. This isn’t over yet. 

Take solace in the beauty that winter provides, in the cotton-like decorations clinging to the Chinese dogwood branches, the way the fluffy snow collects around the interior of a sea-urchin-mimicking puff of pine needles. 

Yes, there is beauty in this snowfall. It almost makes it worth the annoying aggravation, the slowed commute, the delay of spring bulbs. Almost. And while it comes as no shock, this is still a post I didn’t want to write. We are done with winter. We want to move on. 

Have you ever wondered what happens to the artsy-fartsy stuff that decorates some candles? I’m talking about the dried flowers and grasses that sometimes come embedded within the wax. I always did, especially in this lavender candle I got from Pottery Barn a couple of decades ago (yes, decades, because it cost a fortune and I kept it as a decorative piece until this winter when I started to burn it). 

Well wonder no more, because here’s how this one went, in pictorial fashion.