The green wreath tacked to the back of the wooden bench was no bigger than a dinner plate. A note card fixed next to the wreath, lacquered over in tape, read: Please do not remove this wreath. It is for my late husband to whom this bench is dedicated. I glanced to the right…
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Winter has finally arrived in Boston just in time for spring. The seasons have been steadily migrating for quite a while now, which is totally nothing to worry about if you’re psyched about the prospect of taking an evolutionary leap and growing gills or think you might be able to harvest soybeans in your bathtub.…
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We booked a short getaway at the historic Mount Washington Hotel a couple of days after the new year. There was holiday season stress to shake and a lukewarm agreement to give cross country skiing a try. As a general rule, I am pretty terrible at anything requiring even a hint of athleticism. Even mini-golf…
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This October I missed New England’s main event: peak fall foliage. For people unfamiliar with this phenomenon, each autumn the leaves all over this part of the country go on a hunger strike, leeching the green from their veiny hands to replace it with the most brilliant, jeweled earth tones of scarlets, oranges, and yellows.…
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Ben Harper looks like he is about to cry. Harper is a blues/rock/indie guitarist who has been making music since the early-1990s. Tall, lean, and with chiseled features that make him look like he is clipped from the pages of a superhero comic book, Harper is an imposing figure. From where I’m sitting underneath the…
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