Spring is synonymous with transition.
In this space between The Lake and Eaton Street, this time between curtain call and class introductions, lives a rare creature: a vaguely familiar shadow of me, one that feeds on a careful mix of relaxation and exploration, leisure and productivity. The incarnation appears in the intermission between season and school, adventuring and sleeping and biking and eating one too many cheese plates (is there such a thing?).
Swan Lake closed just about 3 weeks ago, and my summer school semester at Providence College begins Monday night (Social History- Providence Architecture!), and in the mean time I’ve been filling the gap between the Bean and PVD. Stay tuned for more from Providence, but for some recent snaps around Boston…
+ a stop in for English breakfast, a raspberry fruit box and floral inspiration at the newly enlarged Tatte in Brookline
+ perusing the (immaculate) shelves at Boston General Store (also in Brookline) just in time for a lovely bridal brunch at Pride’s Crossing
+ my first visit to M’s favorite Saffra Bakery for avocado french toast
+ a trip to Boston Opera House for Boston Ballet’s Swan Lake
+ dumplings and crust(y)aceans at Gourmet Dumpling House in Chinatown
+ drinks over Boston at the Prudential Center’s Top of The Hub
Theatre week has officially begun! We were at The Vets until 10 pm last night for the first of many teching, testing, spacing, and dressing rehearsals before Friday’s opening. Swanning about night after night promises to be quite exhausting. I’m feeling grateful for what’s keeping me grounded between flights, a few fresh things around my home:
this little sprig……because bell flowers should always reside next to bell garlands.
this embroidered sleeve……because it’s attached to a new jacket that makes me feel like the coolest lady ever.
this envelope……for being wall-worthy.
this little group of matches……because I’ve been separating my collection into minis, and it feels surprisingly new.
these flowers in a tall beaker……because PEONY SEASON!
this powerhouse granola……because it was “accidentally” left behind by a sneaky manfriend (plus it’s the most colorful and delicious* granola option in PVD).
these mossy friends……for breathing some springy life into my bathroom counter after a little chop and some fresh water.
this little bit of lace……because it was a spontaneous purchase and I do not regret it one bit.
this invitation……because it’s not every day one of your oldest friends gets married- with an invitation as beautiful as her friendship to accompany the occasion (and yes, this will also be clipped up on the wall. if anyone knows how to resist taking decorational advantage of beautiful script, a vintage ribbon and an actual leaf, please, don’t tell me!)
*verity of this statement to be determined…stay tuned…
Have love, will travel.
Thank you, last weekend, for deciding to be delicious and sunny. Thank you for taking M and me to the West side of PVD for drinks at the dark little bar that always evokes intriguing conversation and encourages a close proximity and makes me feel like we’re on a first date. Thank you for working your magic on the wait list at North and bringing us bok choy and crispy sweet potato goodness in such a timely manner (by North standards, that is). You gave us raw bar refill pondering and hipster gawking and secret smacky kisses. How did you know that’s exactly what we needed?
Thank you, last weekend, for bringing us back to the West Side for White Electric greens and Spring-tinted teas. Thank you for taking us to Armory Park to debate the superiority of pita bread versus its baked chip counterpart while watching a 10-year-old boy being pulled on a skateboard by his fat English bulldog. Thank you for ice buckets and afternoon naps, for family dinner, big brothers in bibs and little girls in glasses. Thank you, sweet weekend, for sending swans my way and for flaky french pastries on warm Monday mornings. Thank you for hand holding and optimism and 70 whole degrees. Thank you for the well-timed playlists and the blooming trees and thank you, dear weekend, for making me smile midweek.
This weekend it was 55(!) degrees in Providence. M and I gave the Oscars a nonchalant cool kid chin tip by seeing The Big Short at The Avon Saturday night and The (far more enjoyable) Theory of Everything on Sunday. Between showings there were warm beverages and downcity walks and cracks for letting in light. We admired murals and I thought about art in its many mediums, and I wondered about appreciation and its affect on a piece of work. I considered the old “if a tree falls in the woods” theory, and wondered if it applies to the creation of art. If an artist works alone, in the dark, producing a masterpiece, does it still result in significance? Left wholly unshared, does art still hold weight?
I also thought about the Leonard Cohen lyrics and the cracks in everything that let light in. As I looked up and studied the negative space between buildings in the Financial District, I realized that it is this space that allows the buildings to shine. It is the space between two structures through which the light beams. In this presumed emptiness, all purpose is found, and without it, functionality would cease. So this space, these cracks, the unpunctuated time that exists in all of us, are a crucial part of the creation process. They give us room to enter and exit, to see ourselves through windows, from the inside and out, and to exist in those alleys and streets between. These spaces are where we able to step back, to share, to admire, and to grow.
With these spaces, we build up.
photo of me by Michael Collins.
Hello, friends! Just wanted to share a few photos from the tea and cocktail party I hosted over the weekend. As a lover of tea and tiny snacks, I’ve been looking for an excuse to throw a, uh, semi-pretentious party of sorts for a while now, and with my birthday, Valentine’s Day, and my recent apartment overhaul coming to fruition all within the same week, Sunday seemed the perfect time to invite some friends over to partake. There were finger sandwiches, old fashioneds, and teeny Tatte cookies. T even baked me a cake! Though my apron somehow managed to stay tied to my waist the entire night, I was thrilled to be able to go tights-free in my dress for the day, warmed by the rising temps, the warm jasmine tea, and the bestest of friends. Woof, that got cheesy real fast. Better sign off before I go full-on Boursin…
I have bruises on my body, but spring in my soul, following this warm weekend up north with my favorite human. M and I brunched and browsed all over Boston, and the sun stayed with us far longer than we’d even hoped. From Brighton to Brookline to Chinatown, Beacon Hill, Cambridge and back again, we made our way through boro(ugh)s and backstreets until our tired, unscented brains* could explore no more. We visited some of our very favorites, including Tatte and The Middle Gray, where I scribbled this little ditty into my journal, which I’m going to call Ode to An Arepa…
black and white
and grey all over
meets end and
bloom and bend
our bodies defend
fight the careful blend
my dearest friend
you challenge my senses
so I guess the contents
in your favorite hot sauce trend.
*Have you ever googled “What does a human brain smell like?” Not recommended.
New England homes will always let you know when Christmas is coming; twinkle lights crop up in every window, woven greens circle door knockers and the warmth of crackling fireplaces glows from the inside out, sending plumes of exhaled smoke up through colonial brick chimneys. December is upon us.
The successful closing of Up Close On Hope | Apollo & Bach Suites brought a short holiday break for FBP, and now with bellies full of turkey we plunge head first into Nutcracker preparations. Ah, Tchaikovsky and sore toes, you epitomize my December. To get into the spirit, I’ve been doing some decking of my little halls and a bit of Christmas gift gathering too (#shopsmall), with festive socks on my feet and a chai in my hand, of course.
Last night I trekked it up north to Ballet Arts Centre of Winchester to rehearse with the students for my Sugarplum guesting this weekend (eeep!). Back in Providence, the next 4 days will be spent hopping from France to Spain to Germany, through blizzards and living gardens to a land made of sweets, accompanied by suites my body knows forward and back. So goes the wonderful, gratifying, exhausting grind of December’s annual preparatory routine. Gird your loins, dancing friends, the Nutcracking season is officially here.