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April 2020

Looking out into the backyard, I spotted the two intruders immediately. Trampling a stand of fountain grass that I was about to remove that very day, a pair of ducks waddled in the direction of the pool. I quickly called out to Andy, as we had never experienced such visitors. “They’re going into the pool!” I heard Andy cry from the bedroom. The pair smoothly made the transition from land to water, gliding into our dirty pool, ravaged from the winter with leaves and detritus and even a floating flower pot. The ducks didn’t seem to mind, playfully diving beneath the water and ruffling their feathers in seeming delight.

I grabbed my phone and rushed from the dining room to the family room, where I could get a better look at them. Pulling the drapes open, I watched as the female floated in place and locked her eyes with mine, sensing my movement and gaze. The male swirled about, still splashing in the water and opening and closing his beak in rapid movements. In her eyes, the female appeared contemplative and doleful, keeping a watch on me. She relaxed when I didn’t move, joining her mate in some splashing and underwater foraging for food.

I stayed there a bit longer, amused by these springtime visitors – the first of their kind that I’d ever seen stop by our pool. Mostly we get cardinals and blue jays and yellow finches, along with the dreaded grackles and robins. Ducks were an unexpected treat. They reminded me of the waterfowl at the Boston Public Garden. It was a welcome reminder.

Going back to interior concerns, I left the ducks to their own devices and when I checked back a few minutes later they had already departed. I felt an unwarranted tinge of loss. Maybe we were hungry for any sort of interaction in these isolated times. I went about the day, and an hour or so later I looked out and they were back in the pool. A quick flash of happy relief was soon replaced by a nagging fear that they might make a nesting spot in our backyard which would not have been good. I didn’t have to worry for long – they soon departed for good a few minutes later. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the flash of them flying over our fence, and then the last ripples in the empty pool of where they had just been.

One of the star performers of any perennial bed or border is Sedum ‘Autumn Joy’ which keeps its succulent wintergreen foliage fresh throughout the summer and begins a long season of bloom with a dusty pink start in August that goes all the way through October. The dried flower-heads retain their architectural form through the winter, which makes for a charming visage when capped with snow. It’s one of the few plants with year-round visual interest, which has made them popular to the point of ubiquitous overuse. That doesn’t mar my feelings on them, however, so when I saw them poking these tender shoots out and testing the spring air, it made my heart leap. Another spring can now begin.

This past weekend I finally got outside and cleaned up the bulk of our winter debris. Filled the typical forty lawn bags of all the dead leaves and branches and various junk that litters the landscape while the garden slumbered. It’s awake now, but it’s still early. Groggy and shaking off sleep, the earth yawns and yearns to sleep a bit more. I get the same feeling on Wednesday mornings. Or whatever day this is. I seem to be losing track.

Here is a pair of before and after shots, and while the photo doesn’t do the scope and work justice, please note that the main stand of fountain grass in the first picture is 12 feet tall. That’s over twice as tall as me. This was no cake-walk, and there was definitely no cake at the end of the ordeal either. But it’s all part of the process, all part of the plan. I’m happy as a clam knowing that spring has arrived, and time in the garden is a valuable kind of therapy of its own. Cutting down each stalk was a ritual of cleansing and rebirth. Out with the old and in with the new. The earth, when left to her own devices, takes care of herself.

As a gift for my efforts, the first jonquils of the season deigned to bloom as I brought the bags to the curb. Pausing to crouch down and inhale their fragrance – that glorious scent of spring that has yet to be successfully replicated in any perfume or cologne – I remembered springs that have come before, and I allowed myself a bittersweet smile.

This is a time for serving Out-of-Office Realness, and I am here to serve you. For anyone who’s ever done a video conference from home, I know you have been in this situation. Thankfully I have not, as of yet, had to do a video conference – I’d be a nervous wreck. And I certainly wouldn’t do it in my underwear. No way. The camera would pan down, I would inadvertently stand up, or some other impossible scenario would play out just in the exact fashion that would reveal my Tom Ford leopard print boxer briefs.

I prefer to do the revealing on my own terms, and in the best possible lighting.

This fun shoot was done on-the-fly, in the basement office, at the end of a long day. In fact, I’ve been putting on fancy silk and sequin ensembles to work from home during office hours – ask Andy and my co-workers. It’s my own way of keeping sane and inspired. Also, if I stayed in my regular pajamas and robe, I’d feel sick and/or lazy – two states not conducive to doing good work. Visuals and atmosphere are important to me. A look can do more to change my mood than an emotional pane. Maybe that makes me more superficial than the average bear, and I’m cool with that. I’ve learned how to turn it to my advantage over the years.

This is also a form of play, and in these dark days of oppressive news and housebound tension, we need more play. Try on your hidden hats. Pull out your fanciest gown. Brush off that formal wedding suit. Dress it up. For no reason whatsoever. As kids we used to do this all the time. We played. We dressed up. We got silly. And we had fun. Way more fun than we have as adults.

Hang on to your hats – the lessons keep on coming.

The skunky-scented fritillaria seen here – more commonly called the Crown Imperial thanks to its impressive floral display – poked through the ground in our backyard, setting off the beginnings of the spring season here in upstate New York. it came just in time, as our isolation was just starting to wear on me. I got out and managed to fill twenty five big lawn bags of the detritus and debris of an entire winter season. While my middle-aged body recuperates (is there any Vic’s vaporub in this place?) we shall recap and provide some links to all that you may have missed. Mentholated vapors take me away…

It began with a very happy anniversary: the 10th birthday of my niece and nephew. 

The battle between the sacred and the profane, the spiritual and the material, and the sarcastically-blissful life of straddling two extremes. 

A pair of kissing cardinals visited our front yard.

We finally went full-frontal here, for really real. 

Spring can really hang you up the most. 

The erotically-inclined artwork of Michael Broderick. 

A Filipino desert recipe from my Mom: babinka.

The time to be neighborly is now. Right now. 

This is how solitude should smell. 

How ever did we get here? And where did my shirt go?

A damn fine cup of coffee, home-brewed.

Have you ever felt like nobody was there?

Lathering up in memories sparked by the Beekman Boys and ‘Aloe & Iris.’ 

Awakening to awareness: the first part. Our journey begins.

Hunks of the Day included Son HeChan, Max Parker, Chris Cuomo, Tristan Gatto, Collin Baja, and Austin Theory.

The last time I truly listened to this song was at the beginning or end of summer – how strange that I can’t quite remember which it was. [Editor’s note: it was smack dab in the middle of summer, right before my first summer blog break.] Though to be fair the start or finish of summer is pretty much equally sunny especially when compared to the harsh start of spring or brutal end of winter. We have tickets for the touring production of ‘Dear Evan Hansen‘ scheduled for June, but no one is confident that will happen. These are frightening times, and all we can focus on is today, and perhaps tomorrow. Going beyond that is a fool’s errand. Best we take it by the moment. Be present. Be here. 

Let’s not get into how emotional this simple video got me – most people know how teary-eyed I get when people sing to me. And sometimes it’s good to cry – especially when all you’ve wanted to do for the last month is cry out in rage and sorrow and the forlorn ache of fear. Let those cries melt into the soaring sounds of voices raised in unison and harmony to make the world a little less lonely.

Perhaps one of the greatest gifts during this extended period of isolation is the gift of new knowledge.

In place of my Starbucks stops, Andy taught me how to make coffee.

I feel like such an adult!

Relax, it’s only decaf.

The last thing this world needs is me on caffeine.

Especially in isolation.

Our house would fall down.

Or explode.

Or both.

From there, from so far away, from so long ago, how did we arrive where we are today? I don’t often dwell on such a question, because there’s no point in doing that. In fact, it’s usually detrimental to everything else going on, or trying to go on, around you. No use dwelling on the how or why, but rather on the way forward. When going through hell, keep fucking going. Isn’t that what Jesus said? Well, if he didn’t he should have, and he certainly led by example. Although maybe the Easter season isn’t the best time to be like Jesus. I mean, Jesus.

Anyway, being more aware of the present makes it easer to find a smile, no matter how long ago it was that you truly felt like smiling. Being present, inhabiting the moment, and focusing on the here and now is the best antidote to a worrisome future. We do not know what tomorrow may bring. We never know. But what good has it ever done to worry and fret about what may or may not be? Even if the worst were to happen, why waste more time being affected by it? Que sera sera; what will be will be. The world suddenly shifts into a more easygoing stance when you realize that.

With that mindset, it’s quite simple to enjoy the day a little more. So go ahead, spray your favorite perfume or cologne, even if it’s the last spritz in your favorite bottle and there’s no more being made. Breathe it in and live in that moment. Happiness is of short supply these days – take it where you can find it, and take it then and there. Don’t save that dress or jacket for a brighter day – this is that day, this may be as bright as it gets. Bask in how happy it makes you feel. Indulge in these little joys. We are afforded just so much for just so long.

And smile. Even if you’re not feeling like it, smile. Studies have shown that the mere muscle action related to it triggers a response no matter how dark or dismal the hour. It makes sense – if your body and brain are accustomed to feeling happy when you smile, why shouldn’t a smile work the same way in reverse? I’m going to try it. You should too.

Don’t think about it, don’t wonder about it, don’t even tentatively plan it, just do it.

The time to be neighborly is right now.

The time is always right now.

There will never come a day when being neighborly isn’t welcome.

That may feel more difficult to accomplish now that we are all socially distancing, but perhaps this is the time to work even harder to be a good neighbor. A good universal neighbor. The internet has made everyone a neighbor to everyone else. That comes with its own demons, but for now let’s focus on the angels, and being better neighbors.

The Beekman Boys reminded me of that, so I’m going to use this post to celebrate them and all that they do. Not just for their upstate New York neighbors (Hi, Neighbor!) but for all the neighbors around the world. The earth has become one big neighborhood. Maybe that’s the best way to think about the world right now. And neighbors help each other out. That might be as simple as staying home and staying healthy for the greater good of the world. That might be sending a letter to someone you haven’t talked to in a while. It may even be something as simple as a text message checking in on one of those social butterflies you always assume is fine because they are always surrounded by friends. Even the most popular among us may be feeling a little lonely these days. Reach out to everyone you know, just in case. A friendly hello is never unwelcome.

Above all else, keep taking care of yourself. Everyone is stressed out, and it’s easy to get bogged down by the nightmare unfurling around us. Step away from the television, put the phone down, turn the laptop off, and indulge in something that makes you happy. These days that’s a long hot shower for me. An order of Aloe and Iris soaps arrived from the Beekman Boys this week, and that’s my plan for the days ahead. Coupled with some meditation, some Ella Fitzgerald, and some candlelit evenings, it’s how I get through the week.