Eight years ago our wedding ceremony took place in a quiet, verdant stretch of the Boston Public Garden, where three young cherry trees formed a little triangle, and an elderly Kwanzan and Metasequoia tree rose to form a majestic backdrop. Beyond them the walking bridge over the swan pond elegantly connected both sides of the water. Today, the sun matched the majesty of that original day as Andy and I made our way into the garden.
Ducks and geese swam in the water, while squirrels jumped and hopped on land. Little birds swooped in and chirped from their tree perches. It was an idyllic scene.
This remains one of my favorite places in the world. No matter what else is going on in the city, and to a larger extent in the world, I always find a sense of peace here. Whether it’s during the glory of spring, the ripen full greenery of summer, the fiery last show of fall, or the delicate slumber of winter, there is always a hushed sense of reverence and contentment here. It is here in the pretty flowering of the cherry trees, the gentle curves of the Japanese pagoda, or the graceful neck of a swan.
Today there was noise and celebration too, as spring had overtaken the space in a riotous collection of bursting tulips and excited tourists. Vivid reds and cheery yellows lit up the beds (usually we are just at the end of their show, but this year they waited for us). Setting off fireworks against their green surroundings and a bright blue sky, they shouted happy greetings to all who passed.
We walked along the edge of the pond, saw a boisterous goose chase another out of the way, said hello to a friendly squirrel, then crossed the walking bridge, pausing in the middle in the same spot we posed on our wedding day.
Two swans nested beside the pond beneath us. We watched their quiet repose before continuing on our way…
