One of first dates was spent behind the handlebars, racing down a bus tunnel with bellies full of froyo. We biked our way through Vernon to Giverny, up to Monet’s gardens and back again. We pedaled along train tracks to a rusty old bridge in East Providence, and crossed a bridge over the Seine to meet a whirring train headed for Paris.
Of course, if we’re not biking, please find us brunching. Oh, pretty please.
Savory crêpes, sweet pancakes, miso fettuccini, we’ve brunched it all. No discrimination. Many a pilgrimmage in Paris led to golden eggs and spicy avocado toast.
So a Monday dedicated to biking from Barrington to Bristol for brunch? Bliss.
Just when I was giving up hope, January redeemed itself with a pretty little snowstorm.
Though hardly the blizzard we were promised, Jonas certainly worked its magic over the city. Every skeleton tree was dusted with luminous pearls, every rail draped in crystal lavalier. It was all quite befitting of Saturday night’s engagement, a birthday fête reflecting all that sparkles in its title alone: Champagne 2016. Impromptu snowball fights followed.
The next morning summoned yet another round of shining, the sun bouncing up with all the levity of an April afternoon. Of course from inside one’s cozy apartment, the only appropriate course of action would be to whip up some cornmeal pancakes (with blackberry compote, like you do) and eat them on the couch, warm mugs in hand.
So we did.
Post-pancakes, M and I set out to explore the sunny snow day. We tasted alllll of the olive oils, straight from their shiny steel fustis. We hoofed from Prospect to South Water, pondering the purpose of faux-windows while peeking through real ones, spying on table-makers and clay faces and ricotta pizzas as we passed. We ducked behind columns and into city cul-de-sacs, down secret steps and up so many hills. We admired the snow-covered city from up close and far away, in the glowing light of the golden hour and under a chilly, purple sunset. We said silly things and I laughed, and laughed, and laughed…
…until the snow started to melt and once again that big J stared me down from atop my kitchen calendar. You know how an enchanted snowy weekend can make the work week feel at once refreshing and melancholy? One more week, Mr. January. Then let’s give February a chance to make some mushy Valentine magic, okay?
Last weekend, a group of friends and I headed up to Acadia National Park in Maine for a little camping adventure before work begins and reality takes its firm grip once more. We really lucked out with our timing, since September is technically off-season for the park, but our weather has been having a hard time saying goodbye to summer. We had the whole campsite to ourselves, which meant there was plenty of opportunities for “zen wheelbarrowing”, telling inappropriate loud jokes by the fire, and early morning jogs through the woods for one of our campers, who was super chilly without a sleeping bag that first night.
Although we climbed (scaled) some of the tallest mountains I’ve ever hiked (ran) up, bringing me one step closer to mastering that fear of heights, standing at the top of Bumblebee Mountain was not the most notable moment of the trip for me. On our first night in Acadia, we, rather randomly, decided to walk over to the seawall and do some stargazing, all 7 of us. As we shifted our backs around on the bumpy rocks, looking for a place to nestle our heads, Kevin noticed a bright light on the horizon. We sat up and the light rose with us, as if craning it’s big eyes over the ocean to get a look at us. No one spoke. The light grew wider, inching up out of the ocean a bit further, and altogether, silently, we all realized what we were seeing, though I’m not sure any of us believed our eyes. Could we really be witnessing a moonrise in Acadia? The just slightly waning moon revealed more of its face to us, with eyes now peeking out behind the sparkling black cloak of the sea. The more the moon appeared, the faster it rose, as if gaining its confidence from our wide-eyed awe. When it finally cut its ties with it’s reflected twin in the water and hung freely among the stars, we all started breathing again.
That accidental moonrise viewing, over the ocean in the completely clear-save-the-stars sky over Acadia, with 6 of my best friends, is an experience I will cherish forever. Just 4 minutes of pure natural beauty, a serendipitous gift from the universe, just for us.
With this massive heat wave here in Providence, there’s little else to do besides quickly transfer from one air conditioned enclosure to another. See also: spend long periods of time in a pool and eat frozen yogurt.
As a survival technique, I’ve been sporting lots of easy sundresses, including the neon-stripey new Ace & Jig number I got on sale at Anthropologie the other day. Love! Also accompanying me are a few new first knuckle rings from whoelsebut? Catbird. Voila! Shiny!
Exciting news to come tomorrow…suspense…stay tuned.