Wanderlust can sometimes be a brick wall.
Such a sentiment finds a more metaphorical embodiment this weekend when I begin recounting a recent weekend in Boston with my friend Chris. With a ruined birthday surprise and rainfall that simply wouldn’t end, we brought the drama like only we could. Come back for that in a few days…
Widely regarded as the fastest rugby player in the world, Carlin Isles sails past his competitors to earn his first Dazzler of the Day honor, just in time for his trip to Tokyo for the Summer 2021 Olympics. He’ll be part of the USA rugby team (marking his second Olympic Games), and his speed looks like it will set the international stage aflame. 
These magical water droplets on the tips of the papyrus plant could only be possible on the morning after a soaking rain. When caught in the sun, in that brief window before they burn away, they reveal the residual prettiness that a storm leaves in its wake. A miniature version of a rainbow, a reminder and a covenant in one.
This is a papyrus plant that I found in a local nursery, and I expected it to be much larger than it is. I’ve had tremendous success growing these in previous years – as soon as their roots fill the pot they shoot forth large umbrels into the sky, growing so high that they eventually start falling over by the end of the season, only by then I don’t mind. This time around it appears I happened upon a super-dwarf version, as these will be lucky to top out at two feet. At first it was a little disappointing, but I’ve since come to appreciate their smaller and more delicate stature. It’s a better of perspective and appreciation.
Artists make the best Dazzlers of the Day, and that holds true for Alistair Watkins-Stuart, an illustrator from Cardiff, South Wales. His work reflects his obsessions of fashion, vintage movies, and a dose of cheeky humor. Founder of Slightly Wobbly Designs, Alistair is an enthusiastic supporter of his fellow artists, spreading and tagging those he admires, which is the ultimate mark of not only a great artist, but a pretty amazing person. (He was the one who put James Falciano on my radar.) Today, it’s Alistair who is dazzling. Check out his work here.
Summer phlox were once the backbones of any proper perennial garden, and in some places that still holds true. Our backyard, however, is not one of those places, and whenever I come across a specimen like this, with its pink eyes and charming white frills, I make motions to find a space for a plant or two, and then always end up giving up. The moth of July is filled mostly with watering and fertilizing and pruning and editing. Planting is mostly already done, or waiting for a safer and later date. And so something like phlox, when it comes to mind, gets shuffled and debated and teased, most usually to no avail.
The brain is scattered in summer, and the garden suffers slightly for it, but beauty will not be stopped or dispelled by my misguided mental meandering. See this lovely phlox plant as evidence that flowers will find a way.
The Summer Olympics are beginning in a few short weeks, so we’ll be featuring some Olympians in both the Dazzler of the Day feature and the Olympic Spotlights as we do during Olympic season. There are just too many amazing athletes and not enough time. Case in point is one of the fastest swimmers in the world right now: Caeleb Dressel, who earns his first Dazzler of the Day here. Keep an eye on him, if you can…
Here we go again. Another robin’s nest has appeared in the backyard, this time in the Wolf’s Eye dogwood tree outside out bedroom window. It’s the same space that ended in likely tragedy last year, and I don’t know how much more the heart can take. Nature doesn’t give up as easily as I do, however, and maybe these eggs will hatch, and the youngsters survive to carry on a legacy.
The world keeps trying, and in that perseverance is a goal and a lesson. It is at these times that I force myself to quiet the nagging worry and doubt that is my starting point, and give in to hope and possibility, and the love that will sustain such a dangerous enterprise as raising a baby bird. We cannot protect those we love from everything, but if we work hard at a it, and we keep working at it, maybe we stand a chance – the same chance these pretty blue eggs have of one day crumbling into the earth, giving sustenance to some wayward worm, and returning into the mouth of a noble creature in flight – one that pecked through the sky-hued shell of its first home to enter the word and defy all the risks of a life lived on the breeze.
Our wet and stormy summer continues, as evidenced by these pictures of the first privet bloom of the season, defying the rain and wind and thunder and throwing out these creamy blossoms. The fragrance, alas, was lost to the water, and I could only barely detect it when I leaned in close and took a deep inhalation.
Signifier of high summer, riding sweetly on the slightest breeze, privet was ubiquitously used for hedging throughout New England, and I have a soft spot in my heart for the happy memories of vacations and lazy summer days, full of heat and sun and carefree bike rides. Summer is kindled differently for everyone, and mine has always come with the perfume of privet.
Keeping things low-key, our 4th of July celebration consisted solely in the company of Mom and Dad, as Andy and I dropped by Amsterdam for a simple family dinner – and it was probably the nicest 4th of July we’ve had in decades.
Fresh from a rainy weekend in Boston, I’m drenched in happy and somber memories as Chris and I grappled with getting older, while celebrating our first reunion since isolating in the time of COVID. More on that that to come, for now let’s ease on into the work week with a day off and the requisite Monday morning recap.
More Madonna, for inspiration.
Closing out Pride Month with this sweet video.
Summer song: Imitation of Life.
Floral fireworks for a low-key 4th of July.
Dazzlers of the Day included Sha’Carri Richardson (who should totally be allowed to compete in the Olympic Games because it’s 2021), Kyle Dean Massey, Sunisa Lee, and Paula ‘Precious’ Bell.
“Freedom is nothing else but a chance to be better.” – Albert Camus
I have aching arms weakened
by an insipid desire to seize
something alive, that feels
smaller than me. I’d like to seize
my burden in one bound and carry it,
running, when it’s evening;
fling myself in the dark to defend it,
as the sea throws itself on the rocks;
to fight for him, as long as there remained in me
a shiver of life; then to fall
in the dead of the night on the road
with moonlight and of birch; to curl myself
on that life that I hug to my chest—
and send it to sleep—and I sleep too, at last …
No: I’m alone. Alone I curl up
above my thin body. I don’t notice
that instead of a numb forehead
I am kissing like a madwoman
the tight skin of my knee.
Behold the invasive water hyacinth, grown safely only in lined containers that do not allow for spread. Not that it’s all the dangerous in these parts; our winters guarantee annual death. It’s so pretty, I couldn’t resist taking a few pics of it at the local nursery. It grows in water, so we don’t have any appropriate space for it, not that I would mess around with something this invasive. It’s a glorious embodiment of summer in these parts, all tropical color and thunder, dangerous and pretty all at the same time. And it brings to mind this summer song by R.E.M. which I’ve always loved:
At the time of this writing, summer has been a fickle thing – three days of cool and rainy weather following by three days of unbearably hot an humid weather – and no happy medium whatsoever. It’s a rollercoaster of weather that is wreaking havoc across the country, uniting Americans in emotional upheaval. Just what we need. But this is summer, and so we focus on what is pretty, and what is beautiful, and what is on the sunny side of the street.
My favorite part of these water hyacinth blooms is the spot of yellow on the top petal of each. It is slightly iris-like in the way it’s painted on there, and it’s only on one petal per bloom, setting that petal apart from the rest, the way summer sometimes separates the rest from the weary. There is so much to do, no matter how exhausted we get, and never enough time to rest. It’s happy exhaustion, though, and I will not complain. That’s what winters are for.
When there is no pool, or no air conditioning, or even the cooling relief of a cold shower, the mind is the only way to attempt to abate the heat. At such times, I think of the trickling sound of running water, the water that might be lapping around the leaves of the water hyacinth. I do not go to winter scenes of ice and cold, I recall the tropical tank of fish and plants that was in a strange little hotel in Chelsea, where my room was hot and stifling, despite a thunderous oscillating fan in the corner. In a windowed room off a landing, this glass tank in the shape of a hexagon sat in the middle of the floor, raised on a pedestal and lifted almost to eye-level. Goldfish swam there, in and around several clumps of green water plants. Water trickled down from a filter system, lending it a calm and tranquil feel. When I got too stuffy in my cramped room, I’d step out into the hallway and watch this scene of water, and it somehow managed to cool me. It’s how you beat the heat in New York: mind over matter.
For years I struggled with keeping the Endless Summer hydrangeas in the front yard as blue as possible – asking Andy to save all his coffee grounds and religiously amending the soil with them, collecting all our rusty metal items from the garage (nails, screws, washers, paper clips) and inserting them into the soil around the roots, and mixing scary-looking acid-green acidifiers into the watering can and carefully pouring the mixture just onto the hydrangeas. For the occasional bloom, here and there, it worked, but only in the slightest – the petals would fight to turn pink, moving from the blue where they started through a purple tone, and into the pink they so clearly desired.
At the same time the front yard hydrangeas went in, I planted a blue variety – not the Endless Summer variety which bloomed on old and new wood – this one only bloomed on old wood. The trade-off for the blue I so sought was paid for by the fact that our winters usually killed off any potential flower buds. For many years – a full decade at least – this one barely deigned to bloom. When it did, there was maybe one or two small stalks that were hidden in the shade of its foliage.
This year we must have had a milder winter, coupled with a less-aggressive pruning practice, and the results are these beautiful blue blooms on our backyard hydrangea. It is located right outside our bedroom window, and makes an especially stunning sight when the afternoon sunlight is slanting through its flowers. It’s so nice when things are worth the wait.
Thus far, it’s been a banner year for the flora and fauna in our yard. The cardinals have made cozy homes in the Steeplechase thuja, while a family of bunnies must be nearby, as judging by the two or three regulars we see, a baby that appeared in the backyard once, and the missing chunks of certain perennials. (They’ve done quite a number to the early spears of hosta, and decimated a loosestrife that never even had a chance to become invasive.) We haven’t yet had the heart to chase them away, especially as they have stayed mostly to the lawns, which could use some cutting anyway.
For now, we can exist peacefully, and it’s a treat to see these cute creatures munching away at some weed or overgrown stalk of grass. If a groundhog should join their ranks, however, that changes everything. There are some lines that must not be crossed.
