The Provincetown exhibit (which Steve has great pictures of here) was extraordinary. After, I walked a block to the Boston Public Garden. The smell of roses and clover were heavy in the air. It was in the 90's and the garden was full of people escaping the heat--it felt ten degrees cooler in the park.
I have fond memories of the Public Garden. My favorite is skating on the pond one New Years Eve. I loved Boston when I was young but now, having had New York as my city for many years it often seems small and provincial. But then I have a day like this one--the gallery, the Public Garden, a stroll through Beacon Hill to the Brattle Book Store--where art and history, books and natural beauty converge, and I fall in love with Boston again.
It is the Revolutionary War, Louisa May Alcott, the abolitionists, Thoreau, Make Way For Ducklings, and a Robert Lowell poem,
Back in the Public Garden, swans were nesting, but didn't seem bothered by the busy ducks.
I have a few roses in my garden.
Bees in the salvia.
The hydrangeas are blooming a breathtaking shade of blue that sets off pink and yellow so nicely, and with this cheerful posy I join Jane's Flowers in the House.