Sea Roses and Beach Appetites

The sea roses were in full bloom, and around every corner the heavy fragrance of Rosa rugosa balanced the salty sea air. One of the first things I did upon getting my bearings was to find the walkway to the ocean, and its accompanying cache of roses, and inhale deeply. It reset the system. It started the vacation. And it brought me back to the shore.

Our accommodations were standard seaside fare, with a couple of pools on the property. As mentioned, they let us into our rooms a little before check-in (impatient kids have a way of working wonders with hotel staff) but beyond that, the staff was exceptionally friendly and efficient. If I can find the time, I’ll write up a TripAdvisor review. Otherwise, these pool pics are all I’ve got.

As nice as the pools were, it was the beach that was the destination, and Noah and Emi wasted no time in getting out to the sand.

Sometimes there is no greater balm upon the soul than that which comes from watching your niece and nephew play on a sunny beach, but a sunset in Cape Cod can come pretty close.

As can dinner with your husband, a dear friend, and the family.

By the time the day came to a close, we had eased into the relaxation that only a vacation can afford. That, and a seafood dinner, made for a good night of sleep.

The sun settled over the water, and I settled into a pillow.

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A Family Vacation at the Cape Begins

We crossed the Sagamore Bridge early in the morning, easily beating any wait and the maddening summer crowds, and then we found our way to Dennisport, MA. Arriving far earlier than check-in time, the hotel was good enough to let us into our rooms within an hour (and with a pair of four-year-olds in tow and antsy to get to the beach, it was truly a blessing.) The sun was shining, and the sky was a brilliant blue. It was the perfect beginning – and it would stay perfect for our entire stay.

On the stereo, the song that always reminds me of summer in Cape Cod played: k.d. lang’s ‘Summerfling’. From her ‘Invincible Summer’ album ~ the brilliant companion-piece to any sunny summer day ~ it set the scene for the beach romps to come. ‘We ran on the beach with Kennedy flair”… I’ll do a proper musical post about that song at another time. For now, these photos will have to suffice.

When I was a little boy, the beach was one of my favorite places to be. The sun, the sand, the surf, the sandcastles – and the pulsating flow of life – from the waves to the seaweed to the crabs and the fish. The arc of the orb, the incoming tide, and the burrowing sand fleas – all were resplendent beneath the umbrella of a vacation.

Somewhere over the years, my enjoyment of the ocean waned. Well, maybe not so much waned as simply lost an outlet. Vacations no longer encompassed days at the beach, and even on semi-regular stops in Provincetown I rarely found myself making the trek to the sandy shore. It wasn’t until a few years ago, on a July trip to Ogunquit, when I fell under the spell of the ocean again.

The way the waves drummed their hypnotic cadence, the way the sun moved across the sky, and the way the seagulls accented the sand with their shadows and their cries – it conspired to craft a scene of peace, a return to the basic tenets of life.

Out in the distance, deep in the vast expanse of the Atlantic, whales and sharks swam in the murky depths. The thought both terrified and thrilled me – that by stepping gingerly into the cool water I could instantly enter their world. My feet touched the same body of water that lapped at the shore of Europe. Being on the beach always inspired such thoughts, pushed my mind to philosophical challenges. The gears were grinding again, even if they remained a bit rusty.

Already, the return to the ocean was working its magic. The cares of concerns of the landlocked drifted away here. Freedom was at hand. The sea, like the summer, stretched far ahead of us. It was a very good place to be.

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Last Recap of June

Closing out this first full week of summer, let’s do a quick recap before we head into the high summer holiday week ahead. June has its enchantments, but July is when things really start to heat up. For now, let’s bask in the heat of what just came before.

Before the recent Cape Cod family vacay gets posted in detail, this end teaser hinted at what you are about to see.

Between sun and shade in the garden thoroughfares of Boston.

Summer means Tom Daley stripping into a Speedo and Novak Djokovic stepping out in boxer briefs.

Better than drops of Jupiter?

At first I got kind of pissed at Grady Smith, then I got kind of sad, and then I just got over it.

The sweetest scent of summer may not belong to Tom Ford… but then again, it just may.

Flowers fit for a wedding cake in Boston.

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Tom Ford’s Mandarino di Amalfi

As much as I love Tom Ford (and clearly I do, much to my bank account’s distress) I have not found most of his fragrances befitting the lighter touch needed for summer (with the possible exceptions of ‘Neroli Portofino’ and ‘Azure Lime’ – and maybe ‘Lavender Palm‘ on cooler days.) Mr. Ford’s Private Blends are usually too strong and dark to work well in the hotter months. Luckily, he just released two cousins to the Neroli collection, one of which I purchased on the first day of our recent family vacation, just in time to wear it to the beach.

‘Mandarino di Amalfi’ retains a strong thread of Neroli, but adds notes of tarragon, bergamot, and citrus. It is refreshing and effervescent, and manages to maintain a decent sillage – no easy feat for the lighter frags of summer. Citrus is notorious for disappearing soon after it is applied, and while this does simmer down to a skin scent with a couple of hours, that’s what I look for in the heat of the season.

So enamored of this scent am I that I’m already seriously considering its second cousin, ‘Costa Azzurra’. I tried that one out as well, and it has a slightly smokier shade to it, something perfect or the end of the summer. That’s a long way off, and I am in no way going to rush through the sun and warmth, so for now I’m basking in the sparkle and glow of ‘Mandarino di Amalfi’. It’s perfect for the beach, and the aquamarine shades of an undulating ocean. In fact, those are the memories already embedded in my heart from just a few short days on the Cape Cod shore, and Tom Ford wafting through the sea breeze.

Fragrance is one of the strongest memory-triggers. One day in the future I will spray a bit of this Mandarino, and be instantly transported back to that magical time and place when I watched my niece and nephew bounding across the beach, kicking up sand, carrying seaweed, and playing in the sunshine.

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Novak Djokovic: Bulging in Boxer Briefs

While we’re on a tennis kick, here is Novak Djokovic, caught on a balcony in a pair of boxer briefs. Personally, I prefer him in something slightly skimpier, as seen here, but I don’t think anyone would throw Mr. Djokovic out of bed for wearing these. As for his package of jewels, I love a man who knows his way around balls. Tennis, people, I’m talking about tennis. Love – Love. Game on.

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The Wedding Cake Bush

I didn’t get around to posting these photos back in May when they were taken, but they are a welcome reminder of the freshness of the season, one that still lingers in these early days of summer. This is the double-file viburnum, commonly referred to as the wedding cake bush. It’s more than fitting, as there is a photo of Andy and I on our wedding day taken in this very spot, with this very bush in the background, in full bloom.

It doesn’t get its name from our ceremony, but rather the horizontal wedding cake layer-like countenance of a specimen in flower. Despite its elegant and delicate appearance, this is a very hardy shrub, that withstands drastic pruning and less-than-ideal conditions. It also has more than one way to show off – not only on its branches, but on the mosaic-like stone tiles of the Boston Public Garden.

Consider it a double-file doing double-duty with its load of beauty, throwing off a second showing for those of us closer to the ground. A home-grown toss of confetti, if you will.

No matter how you look at it, the viburnum is a gorgeous landscape addition.

Another May, another day

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Sweet Scent of Summer

It was one of the first arresting fragrances I remember. In the hot entryway of Suzie’s Victorian home, a bouquet of mockorange blooms stood unobtrusively on the shelf that housed the Guest Book that I never failed to sign (I think I held the record for most signatures in that book – at the very least, I’m a strong contender – and I’m adding to it every few months.) On the day recalled here, the book was beside that vase of flowers which filled the space with the sweet scent of summer – the mockorange. Commonly named from its fragrant approximation of the sweet citrus blossom, it came at the very start of summer, when the world was at its seasonal happiest. Here, tamed in a smaller space than the expansive side-yard of Suzie’s house, it released its potent perfume, and I all but swooned at such sweetness.

Certain flowers carry their power in their fragrance. Peonies, lilacs, certain roses, lavender – each packs its own olfactory punch, conjuring memories of childhood or summers long gone by. The mockorange is one of them. Unassuming and rather rustic in leaf and form – even the flowers are simple and white – it makes up for the lack of visual pizzazz with a scent that would blow more stunning show-offs out of their colorful orbit. I like an underdog that can surprise in such a manner. And I love a mockorange in bloom.

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Grady Smith: The guy who’s gay but not acting on it

At first, I gave him the benefit of the doubt. I know what it’s like to struggle with a devotion to the faith and religion in which you were raised when you are a gay person whose religion condemns homosexuality. Even today, I find it difficult to reconcile the safe, life-affirming comfort of the church in which I grew up and served as an altar boy with the Bible-quoting God-fearing zealots who would have me stoned for loving my husband. That’s not an easy thing to go through, but I did it because I knew that what I was doing was not sinful. There is no sin in loving another person, even if he happens to be the same sex as me. And there is no sin in expressing that love. But before I start eviscerating what you may not have seen, take a few minutes to hear Grady Smith, a self-proclaimed gay Christian, explain his choices:

My first feeling upon listening to you, Grady Smith, was one of profound sadness and pity. How lonely to give up your desires, to give up your love, to give up and give in to the antiquated and archaic rules of a civilization long-ago ruined. How pathetic to even entertain the notion of entering into a marriage with a woman to raise children knowing full-well you are a gay man who will never feel the same excitement or attraction to a woman. (That’s sort of how being gay works, Mr. Smith.) Above all, how terrifying and joyless to live in constant suppression of what was admittedly a natural, God-given desire for the same sex.

After a few moments, however, my feelings turned to anger. This is the same exact theory that drives the notion of “Love the sinner, Hate the sin” – a sentiment that you so easily dismiss, only to stand behind in action. The problem isn’t with Christianity, or your belief system, but in the limited interpretation of the Bible that, if you are going to read and follow so strictly, should also have you drastically revising your view of shellfish, slavery, and stonings. The rigid thinking you want so badly to decry is the very thinking you are espousing for yourself.

Mr. Smith, that “huge suffocating culture of shame that covers anything that even touches the word gay” which you reference and rightfully condemn comes from Christians like yourself, who choose to perpetuate the shame by proposing and living out a life that is forced, unnatural, and goes against the very grain of how they were born. The guy who’s gay but not acting on it… that is a definite conundrum, and there’s not much room for true happiness there. You may not want my pity, but you have it.

After gritting my teeth and almost talking back to the computer screen (something I never, ever do), my anger subsided, and the freedom to do what Grady Smith is doing – to talk about his conflict – is something I will always defend. Here’s a guy who is going to put his life and his journey out there, not unlike the certain someone typing away here, and although I still cannot bring myself to respect Mr. Smith, I can honor the process. And in so doing, I can also say that Mr. Smith is full of shit.

If you really want to change the culture of this whole beast, Mr. Smith, then start by thinking of that one young gay boy who sits alone and terrified that his nature should never be acted on, that he should never kiss the man of his dreams, that he should never become what it was his destiny to become. Think of that lonely gay kid who feels, based on your example, that he should never be who he was born to be, and that he should never find love or, worse, act on it. Think of the many horrific ways in which that might warp a young gay person into the very perversion you are trying so desperately to excise. That’s the real abomination at work here.

Grady, I hope that one day you are able to stop fighting who you are. God did make you in His own image. Why would you want to suppress all that it encompasses?

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Drops of Sunshine

Behold, the evening primrose. Scientifically known as Oenothera, these perennials also go by the more apt moniker of ‘sundrops.’ Either way you refer to them, they are a burst of bright color at this time of the year, and provide a striking anchor for a perennial bed or border. They spread quite well, and will reseed if given the chance, though their blooms are so happy I can’t imagine many would be too upset by this gentle bit of invasiveness.

As is often the case in such matters, the most fiery of blooms are often the most fleeting, and while these yellow stunners unfold over a number of days, they will not last much longer into the summer, so take this into count when you’re counting on color for late July and August. They will occasionally offer some autumnal color, however, so don’t fully dismiss them. The best plants are full of such surprises.

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Tom Daley: Stripping Down & Stretching

Yes, this post is just here for the sake of buying some more time before I can put together some Cape Cod vacation posts, but there should be no complaints when Tom Daley is stripping down to his Speedo and stretching his butt, in glorious GIF motion. I won’t bore you with a long list of links where he is similarly and scantily attired – that was partly taken care of here – but you can always search the Archives for such gratuitous nudity. (And yes, somewhere in the annals of this site there is a legit Tom Daly naked pic. Honestly. Seek and ye shall find…)

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Dappled Sunlight in Boston

Cities often suffer in the summer. Once that heat gets into the concrete and the subways, it’s there until October. Still, there are spaces and moments of reprieve, such as in the dappled shade afforded by street trees, or the increasingly-landscaped stretches of the Southwest Corridor Park, where these photos were taken.

Here, some snowdrop anemones and blue flags find comfort beneath the filtered sunlight before the heat becomes unbearable.

At this early stage of the season, everything is still fresh, everything is still cool. The greens are softer, the edges pristine, and the blossoms unripped by hot winds.

It’s the secret side of Boston, unknown to tourists, and often unnoticed by locals, and I hold it more dear because of that.

The lips of an iris are sealed, the petals of an anemone silent.

Sometimes summer doesn’t shout – sometimes it whispers.

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Vacation’s Over

“No man needs a vacation so much as the man who has just had one.” ― Elbert Hubbard

Truer words were never spoken. Having just returned from a family vacation in Cape Cod, I am in no mood to start cranking out blog posts. It was a grand time, including a number of fun moments with the family, and some relaxing days on the beach. We could have done with a few more, but alas, there is work to be done, and parties for which to prepare, and the incessant parade of the internet marches onward with little room for slowing.

Fortunately, this is all by choice, and my website is done mostly for myself. The moment it becomes less than enjoyable is the moment it goes dark. I haven’t gotten there yet, but after being away from a computer and this blog for five days, I’ve realized that the best part of life goes on off-screen. So, for a while, the summer perhaps, I’m taking a bit of the vacation mentality back with me and employing it here in the form of two posts a day versus three. Trust me, you won’t miss that third one – and if you do, then you’re doing something wrong with your life too. Let’s live a little… in the real world… just for a summer.

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The First Summer Recap

Barely a couple of days into the summer season and we’re already recapping. Well, that’s what Mondays are for, so let’s dive in and get it done. My first family vacation in two decades comes to a close today, so you have those posts to look forward to, but in the meantime, things stayed relatively steady here, with a week of events that included the following:

The Albany Gay Pride Parade and Festival, to which I wore sequins – lots of sequins – and in which I wasn’t alone, came and went in a sparkling flash.

We attended one very long dance recital for my four-year-old niece. As antsy as we may have been, it was nothing compared to the behavior of my four-year-old nephew.

Haunted by a ruthless rhododendron.

It’s always hot when Harry Judd takes his clothes off, as he did here.

No summer start would be complete without Tom Daley in his Speedo.

There were a couple of Hunks who kept things as hot as the weather, like the unconventionally-attractive Adam Driver, the more conventionally-pretty Torben King, British swimmer Mark Foster, Danish model Ken Bek, the commonly-monikered Kevin Smith and, last but certainly not least, my pal and webmaster Skip Montross.

Here’s to the start of summer – let’s rock!

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Soft as an Evergreen

Only the first flush of foliage in the first few days of growth on an evergreen is soft to the touch. Soon enough, it will harden and darken and become the prickly but hardy form that will see it through the coldest winter. Of course, I like its fleeting form the best, when the colors are the brightest, the texture is still pliable, and the coarseness is not yet in evidence.

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A Family Vacation

Our family vacations were not for the relaxation or refreshment that most people think of when they plan a vacation. Our parents saw to it that we were up by 7:30 most mornings, seeing the local sights, traipsing through the museums and historical locations before there was beach time or pool fun. It was a regimented routine that I still find myself recreating on trips.

The first thing my Mom would do, much to our impatient chagrin, was unpack the luggage and put the clothes away in the chest and closet. While we were antsy, she methodically unpacked everything. We would whine and run around the room hoping to go anywhere or do anything other than such mundane housekeeping. These days, I rarely unload a thing from the luggage, aside from hanging some shirts of jackets to undo any wrinkling.

As for the early alarm, I realize now that she probably didn’t want to waste a moment, and I get that. I am the same way when it comes to seeing a new place for the first time. The best time of the day in many places is first thing in the morning. THat’s when the air is fresh, the light is good, and the crowds are still asleep.

For our upcoming family vacation, however, I’m going to do things a little differently. I’m not going to rush myself up in the morning. I’m not going to jam a few days of nonstop events into the itinerary. In fact, there will be no itinerary. I will make no plans. I will make no commitments. I will do as I feel, when I feel like doing it.

With a new job that has its own non-stop schedule, I want to refresh and replenish and relax. I don’t think I’ve ever truly done that before. Now is the time.

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