Sweet Perfume of the Season

The Korean lilacs are in glorious bloom right now, perfuming the yard with their pretty fragrance. It’s a slightly less potent variation of the sweet Korean spice viburnum that finished up a little while back. These little lilacs extend the fragrant season, picking up where their American counterparts leave off. Nature knows what she’s doing, bridging the transitory weeks in such sweetly-scented fashion. 

These easy bushes have taken off in landscaping over the past few years. Usually that waters down their appeal, but these are such high-performing shrubs that I can’t be mad about everyone else wanting them. The foliage remains fresh and mildew-free until the fall, something our American lilacs have yet to achieve thanks to our humid and hot summers. Some years I prune them back hard, some years not at all. (Pruning should always and only be done immediately after this first bloom to ensure you don’t nip off future buds.) While the American lilacs tend to take every other year off when it comes to prolific blooming, the Korean version blooms reliably and heavily every year, and they often repeat bloom in the late summer when the weather mirrors these spring days. 

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Backed by Chartreuse, A Reminder of the Moment At Hand

The leaves won’t ever be as bright and fresh as they are right now, and that is cause for celebration and contemplation. This vibrant shade of chartreuse is not meant to last, and soon it will deepen into a darker green. We celebrate for the same reasons we contemplate: it honors the moment. Inhabiting the present is a gift that we have all been given, but too many of us forget how to use it, if we ever learned in the first place. Most children are born with this understanding – only when they grow up or are taught differently do they lose track of it. Life doesn’t make it easy to hold onto such wisdom either, the way it makes the mundane necessary, the way it distracts and spooks with sparkle and terror. 

Yet every year at this time I am so touched by the beauty and freshness of the world that the awe reminds me to be as fully present as possible. If that means slowing down and pausing in the day, no matter what else is going on, then that’s what I try to do. 

The splendor of late spring never lasts as long as summer, fall or winter. It’s heartbreaking, and remembered in a different way in the sense that the temporal and fleeting are made more dear and precious because they won’t last. That’s why it’s important to be as present as possible. It’s one of the most important lessons of spring. 

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Summer Mac Salad

Macaroni salad has always been the stuff of summer in our house. This is the time of the year when Andy whips up a batch to have on had for lunches or gatherings, or if I’m extra lucky just on an unremarkable afternoon when the weather is fine and you want something that is both vibrant and nostalgic. I don’t usually have the patience to do all the chopping and cooling that makes a macaroni salad great, but Andy has such gifts. This particular bowl was especially good – Andy claims it’s a new relish he’s found – and whatever the reasons or secrets behind it, I was grateful for its goodness. 

He fired up the grill for some burgers and hot dogs to go with it, and there was no finer dinner to be had at any cost. The road to summer is at hand, and it begins with a simple salad. 

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Finding A Smile for Summer

“A smile costs nothing, but is one of the best gifts you can give anyone.”

Miranda Hart has been a delightful muse and inspiration in these dark times, providing hope and laughter when we need it the most, and some hard-won wisdom that shifts perspective in the best possible ways. She wrote an adorable book that, while geared toward young adults, has appeal for all ages, and offers a whimsical tale designed to elicit a smile from everyone. Hart’s quirky voice and humorous way of addressing some rather serious issues makes this an enjoyable read that is more than your typical kids’ book., and ‘The Girl With The Lost Smile’ is a great summer jaunt for anyone looking for a little joy and whimsy. 

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Three of My Favorite Things

Roses, lilacs, and a hotel lobby make me a happy guy. Then together, they can create a moment of magic that seems to still the day, amid all the hustle and bustle with which a hotel lobby space can be filled. The Copley Fairmont stands majestically over its square, and the ornate lobby space is worth a walk-through whenever I’m in town, if only to see a bouquet like this, magnificently holding court and focus. 

Little pockets of respite and hospitality in the midst of a city like Boston offer the space for recuperating in a day of walking and shopping. I love a hotel lobby for just such a purpose. When it’s decked out in such prettiness, so much the better. 

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The Time for Menu Glasses Has Come

You may call them reading glasses, but I’m sticking to ‘menu glasses’ since that’s when they have become mandatory for me. I’ve needed them for years, and it’s finally time to give in and admit my blindness, particularly when that dimly-lit restaurant augments its lack of light with a menu that uses a size 9 font in a faint gray color in fucking italics. 

While I have embraced the opportunity for accessorizing, these glasses are more of a pain in the ass than a fun chance to show off coordinating colors. Sometimes, even with the right strength, they give me a headache or make me dizzy. Other times they don’t fit quite right and end up aching my nose or temples. Mostly they are a reminder, not entirely unwelcome, that I’m advancing in age like everyone, and am now part of the menu glasses crew. It’s a position my eyes have earned, and as long as I can still see, with whatever help one can get, I will be grateful. 

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Monochromatic Serenity

There is something spectacular to be said about monochromatic schemes, and while I’m not disciplined enough to maintaining myself, I’m always enraptured when I see them done well. There’s also a sense of calm and serenity to a scene that eases the eyes by using one or two colors, rather than utilizing the full spectrum in dramatic super-saturated intensity. Bouquets that focus on a single section of the color wheel offer a charm and elegance often missing from a cacophonous mix of every color available. As I get older, I find myself drawn to such simplicity. 

I’m also a great admirer of the moonlight garden – those spaces that use only white flowers for a garden that exerts its magic most powerfully at dusk or dawn, when the white flowers act like little moons floating at ground level. That’s the vibe I got from this camp of white narcissus – serenity, tranquility, calm. A quiet nod of beauty in a world that grows louder and less serene by the day. 

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An Unfiltered Recap, If You Think You Are Ready

The flowers here carry their own natural vibrance, so brilliant that there is no need of filtering or photoshopping for them to shine. This blog likes to keep things as natural and simple as possible (for the most part) and so we let the flowers shine in all aspects of brilliance or subtlety. It’s a lovely way to begin the short work week before a holiday weekend that traditionally kicks off the summer, but let’s go over the past week briefly before getting into it…

Making waves in the pool again.

Maintaining a sense of calm amid the chaos

The prick of a Tom Ford rose.

Spring, falling away like cherry blossom petals.

Country roses.

Turning my super-serious childhood on its head.

Our long-awaited return to the Beautiful Place By the Sea.

Vintage lilacs.

Chartreuse life.

Andy and I celebrated our 12th wedding anniversary in Boston

What is there to say upon a dozen years of wedded bliss?

Quietly expressing gratitude and appreciation for all the love.

The one Dazzler of the Day more than held his own – this is Ricky Schroeder in his second crowning.

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A Dozen Years of Married Life ~ Part 3

Sunday dawned in sunny fashion, the universe still playing its most beautiful card on the day we were designed to leave. Rather than regret, I celebrated the sun at hand, and the weekend we had just had, making a quick walk about the neighborhood while Andy had his coffee and showered. There were bleeding hearts and azaleas, tulips and pansies, and a few neighbors of the fuzzy kind

This rabbit showed up again, as it to confirm we were exactly where we were supposed to be. 

The blooms along Southwest Corridor Park saw me back to the condo, where Andy was almost ready. 

A dashing husband makes for a fine brunch date. 

And a happy anniversary weekend joins the happy pantheon of all that came before, continuing our journey to what will come again. 

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A Dozen Years of Married Life ~ Part 2

Rain had been forecast as a possibility for our actual anniversary, but it stayed away, even allowing for peeks of blue sky through a thin layer of clouds. Grateful for the peaceful break, we made our annual jaunt to the Boston Public Garden. The trees were in bloom, if a bit behind their usual schedule. The swan boats had just started running again, their bright white feathers echoing the crab-apple trees. 

The colors on this day were as muted as they were fresh, like a whimsical watercolor painting that felt like history about to create or reveal itself. Andy and I walked through the Garden, pausing at the places we knew so well. 

Squirrels and ducks and and geese swirled around us, welcoming us back. As unlikely as it was, I still wondered if any of them had been here twelve years ago. Most of the trees remained, a few new ones had been planted, and many had undergone the wear and tear of time. We were older too, taking a slower pace, as much to enjoy the moment as to give our bodies some ease. 

Twelve years ago this little bottle of Creed was a bit fuller, but only a bit, as this is the only day of the year on which I wear it. 

We made our way through the Garden, then ventured into the site of the former Taj, now the Newbury, where we had once been ensconced in a suite for our wedding weekend. Now, it would be the site of our lunch, and I began with this ‘Prohibition Daisy’ mocktail. Andy chose his favorite Hemingway daiquiri, which showed up like destiny on the menu. Our table overlooked the Public Garden from which we had come, and we reminisced about our rehearsal dinner cocktail hour in this very same room. 

After lunch, we checked out the florals of the lobby, where we found peonies, just as we had twelve years ago. We exited onto Newbury Street and meandered to Shreve, Crump and Low for the annual washing of the rings. With all that has happened in the last few years, it was a comfort and a balm to realize that there were still traditions that mattered, still ways to mark time and be grateful, still ways to love…

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A Dozen Years of Married Life ~ Part 1

Celebrating our 12th wedding anniversary a couple of weeks ago in Boston, Andy and I re-discovered a city in spring bloom while remembering that wonderful day a dozen years ago. A quieter celebration, especially considering the current state of the world, it seemed to mean a little more than louder and more bombastic celebrations we may have had in the past. Southwest Corridor Park was lined with flowering plums and apples, while our building on Braddock Park was framed by the leaflessly-enchanting blooms of an American dogwood. We were back in beauty. 

A gift from last year’s anniversary, a spritz of Soleil Brulant brought back more recent happy memories, time layering upon time, creating the richness of our shared history. As Andy settled in at the condo, I went on a quick shopping run on Newbury Street. 

Hastening along, I returned to find Andy on the couch in an afternoon slumber. After carefully unloading some food in the kitchen, I moved quietly to the bedroom for a daily meditation. A favorite time of the day, in one of my favorite rooms, while my favorite person was sleeping in the other room – it was an auspicious beginning to our anniversary weekend.  

On that first night, we had a steak dinner in the Seaport, then returned home while the city bloomed. The next day we would return to the Garden…

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Chartreuse Life

With bark of blazing coral, this maple’s early shade of chartreuse offers double the bang for its buck. It will largely retain this bright and fresh color, deepening only slightly throughout the season, and at the end it will flare out in a fiery, golden sunset. For now, we are at just at the start of this year’s journey, and that starts with the spring rain seen on the foliage here. 

We needed the rain, even if it came with the threat of tornados, something that never used to be part of these parts. The world has changed, for better or worse, and a tornado would be par for this world’s course at the moment. I will take the rain as a comfort – a sign of sustenance and survival – and the mark of a season to pave the way for summer. 

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Vintage Lilacs

More than perhaps any other flower, lilacs kindle memories – of childhood, of mothers, of family, and of love. When placed beside a photo of Andy’s mother, they lend our den a sense of warmth and history, bringing to mind happy memories when we were all much younger. The mind mingles in the past based on different sensations – sometimes it’s in the perfume of a flower, sometimes in a certain shade of lavender, and sometimes in the simple slant of sunlight. 

Andy recalls a long hedge of lilacs near his home, a mixture of white and typical lilac bushes, alternating light and dark shades – which is similar to my own memories of lilacs – the traditional variety in our yard, and a few more elusive white varieties in the yard next door. As this year’s lilac season shifts from the American versions to the Korean lilacs, just coming into sweet bloom now, the season of spring is at its glory – as much a season of renewal as of remembrance. 

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Our Long-Awaited Return to the Beautiful Place By the Sea

As far as I can tell, the fall of 2017 was the very last time Andy and I set foot in Ogunquit. Since that time, we missed visiting at the start and close of the season – such happy bookends that once delineated our summer season. This year, we are set to return to the Beautiful Place by the Sea, trying out some new digs (Scotch Hill Inn) and with a renewed appreciation for travel. 

Memorial Day weekend always kicked off our Ogunquit adventures for the year, and it was often filled with the anticipatory excitement that this happy time of the year brings. The world feels very different now, and I’m hopeful that Ogunquit brings a new balm to everything we have all been through. 

Every trip to Ogunquit felt like a return home, a return to a place of sanctuary, where the beauty and majesty of the Marginal Way brought about a clearing sense of calm and centering, and stepping into the Atlantic Ocean, no matter how bracingly cold, felt like an instant cure to whatever ailed us. 

While things have decidedly changed, and Ogunquit may not look or feel like it once did, there is a grace and healing in nostalgia, and more importantly, there are new memories to be made. It is time. 

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My Super-Serious Life As A Child

Bucking the traditional trajectory that one usually takes by gaining maturity as one ages, my life has unwound in typically-atypical fashion as I find myself getting less and less serious as the years advance. When I was a child, I was super serious about everything. There were moments of laughter and glee, but far more often I was determined and humorless, doggedly trudging through everything that was expected of the oldest son in a strict Catholic Filipino family. All of the responsibility, none of the glory. It served me well, something I’ve realized as I’ve grown into adulthood, when being responsible and consistent are necessary traits to any sort of success or ease in living. I used to look back with tinges of regret that I hadn’t let loose and had more fun when I was a kid, but lately I’ve had a change of heart and perspective, particularly as having fun now carries a sense of reward and release that those with carefree, giddy and non-stop-fun-filled childhoods can only attempt to recapture. 

Being silly and goofing off after you’ve earned it is a joy in itself. If you started off goofing off in class and being silly at every turn of youth, and you have the typical results that come from it, you may find yourself having to work a little more and enjoy things a little less. I’ve been fortunate, and had the foresight, to have done the heavy mental lifting as a kid – now it’s all downhill, with less trudging and more giggling. The older I get, the less I know, and the more fun and frivolous the world feels. 

“Don’t let us take doubts with exaggerated seriousness nor let them grow out of proportion, or become black-and-white or fanatical about them. What we need to learn is how slowly to change our culturally conditioned and passionate involvement with doubt into a free, humorous, and compassionate one. This means giving doubts time, and giving ourselves time to find answers to our questions that are not merely intellectual or “philosophical,” but living and real and genuine and workable. Doubts cannot resolve themselves immediately; but if we are patient a space can be created within us, in which doubts can be carefully and objectively examined, unraveled, dissolved, and healed. What we lack, especially in this culture, is the right undistracted and richly spacious environment of the mind, which can only be created through sustained meditation practice, and in which insights can be given the change slowly to mature and ripen.” ~ Sogyal Rinpoche, ‘The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying’

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