Category Archives: Andy

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.

As we neared the end of our Public Garden stroll, we came across the gentleman who had provided the enchanting bit of ehru music on our wedding day, and can often be found here on gorgeous days. Some aspects of the day you don’t even realize you miss until they show up later than expected. The occidental tune added to the beauty around us and we slowly withdrew from the garden. We shall return in the summer.

Taking Boylston back toward the condo for the afternoon siesta, we ducked into the Lenox Hotel, where we spent my 40^thbirthday in the Judy Garland suite. A gold lion sentinel stood guard outside, while inside the lobby the couch beckoned for us to sit down. More lions, of the stuffed animal variety, lined the wall. Perhaps we’ll return to that suite someday…

In the meantime, we made do with the condo, once again resplendent in the afternoon light. A quick nap and change of clothes, and then it was time for dinner.

In what used to be the location of Sibling Rivalry, we were early enough to get an outdoor table at Barcelona, right next door to the Boston Center for the Arts (where we had tickets for ‘Love! Valour! Compassion!).

The meal was all right, marred slightly by some service issues, but you can find those details in my TripAdvisor entries. 

After the lackluster drinks and dinner at Barcelona, we returned to a restaurant that has always done a solid pour: Aquitaine. Next year we should probably just make an anniversary reservation here, as we somehow manage to find our way to the chic bar for their delicious cocktail listing. It was the perfect pre-theater moment.

After the show, we walked off the dinners of the previous two nights, meandering beneath the street-lamp-lit blooms of the cherry trees. A joyous ending to a joyous day…

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…

We walked through the glorious morning and made a couple of fragrance stops of Neiman Marcus and Barneys. Disappointingly, the Copley Square Neiman Marcus had stopped stocking Diana Vreeland Parfums, leaving me at a loss to try one of their latest, ‘Wildly Attractive’, which was really our sole reason for being in that store. Moving on to Barneys, I found the delicious ‘Cologne Indelibile’ under the Frederic Malle label and was instantly under its spell. A perfect accompaniment to Tom Ford’s ‘Neroli Portofino’ but slightly longer-lasting, it will be this summer’s signature scent ~ all lemon and bergamot and orange blossom glory.

From there, we walked along Newbury Street toward the Boston Public Garden. Ever since we’ve been married, we stop by Shreve, Crump and Low, where we got our wedding rings, to have them washed. It’s a tradition, and one of my favorites. There’s something formal and ritualistic about it ~ it reminds me of that day eight years ago when we made our commitment to each other official. It’s a lovely reminder of all that we vowed and promised. And it’s a lovely thing that only Andy and I share, something I have with no one else.

While we wait, there are always other things to peruse ~ like Burmese rubies and Pink sapphires. Of course, there are things that appeal to Andy as well; he has been wanting a watch from Shreve, Crump and Low ever since we got our wedding rings. And if I’d started saving up all those years ago, I still would be nowhere close to the $17,000 price tag on his preferred time piece. Still, it’s nice to look, and the friendly salespeople were more than happy to snare a couple celebrating their anniversary and bring them up a flight of stairs to their watch showroom.

Incredulous at what they must have thought was in our wallets, I whispered to Andy in disbelief, “Do these people actually think we can afford these watches??” I had just looked at a $27,000 rose gold hot pink model studded with pink sapphires or something. Fortunately, my poker face is good, and I nonchalantly moved on to the next price point as if he were talking about 27,000 blades of grass. One day, post-lottery, I’ll find a way to get Andy one of these time pieces. But that day is not yet here, and we walked out with only our sparkling rings and free smiles.

The Public Garden was ahead of us, but we took a slight detour through the Taj to see their floral display, which was rather unimpressive compared to the piles of peonies and cherry blooms that were there during our stay. We headed back into the sunshine…

Upon every anniversary weekend, echoing a moment I had on our original wedding day, I find a little nook of time in which I’m on my own. Whether it’s a quick trip to the store, a minor shopping excursion, or a simple walk when Andy is occupied elsewhere, I invariably find a pocket of solitude that makes me miss him, allowing me to appreciate his company just a little bit more. On this weekend, it was on Saturday morning. To ease the amount of walking Andy would have to do, I went to pick up breakfast at the nearby cafe. It was here where I found The Moment Alone.

Stepping out onto Braddock Park, I paused and admired the island in the middle of the street. The fountain was on and the sound of water and birds made for a lovely soundtrack. When the sun is at its earliest and latest ~ that’s when it’s most beautiful on our street. Well, much of the morning is enchanting when the sun is out, and into this scene I made my solitary way.

Cherry trees and magnolias painted pink before a blue sky, and all the beauty of the day lent my mission a magic not always apparent when running errands. I slowed my step and took my time, soaking in the glorious promise of the day. Andy would still be in the shower and there was no rush.

Overhead, flowering pears reached across the street and intertwined their branches, as if holding hands above those of us who passed beneath. (A glimmer of this magic is repeated in the immediate aftermath of a snowstorm, but it is far less appealing then.)

I made it back with our pastry (and an extra macaron for Andy) and we looked out onto the blossoming street. The Washing of the Rings was next…

The weather was kind to us from beginning to end. When we arrived in Boston the rain had stopped and the air was hot and humid. Andy was following the progress of the storms in Albany ~ eyeing something about a Bow-flex or Bow-echo or bow-and-arrow ~ I was just thankful to be far from the meteorological madness. The sun would smile upon us for most of our weekend, and the rain would hold off until the very last moment we were leaving. The previous few days of high heat had brought out every possible spring bloom that might have been hesitant to let go, and we arrived to a city filled with flowers at the height of their beauty.

Andy was fighting off a sore throat and fever, but he powered his way through it like a trooper. I’m grateful for that, because with all the changes that this year brings (we’ll be holding off on our annual Ogunquit trip until September) I didn’t want to forsake our anniversary tradition in Boston.

We were there, once again, at the perfect time: everything was in bloom. The daffodils were just finishing up, the tulips were in their splendor, and the apple and cherry blossoms hung from every branch. American dogwood blooms (or bracts as the case may be) fluttered like white and pink butterflies on their bare branches.

Even the vinca was throwing its small purple stars out from its glossy groundcover base. A new variety of bleeding heart, with this magnificent chartreuse foliage to set off the pink, heart-shaped blooms, was a lovely surprise along the Southwest Corridor Park.

Most thrilling for us, and we paused significantly in our various strolls to make them matter, were the lilacs. We will miss them in Maine this spring, and seeing them here was enough to conjure a new happy memory. We pulled a branch down to our noses and inhaled the signature scent of spring and the summer to come.

I’d padded our weekend with a few moments of rest, which we elongated for Andy’s recuperation. To be honest, I find myself enjoying an afternoon siesta more and more as the years go by, and in the condo, as the sun streams in from 3 PM onward, there is no better place to rest and relax.

Our anniversary weekend had begun in beautiful fashion…