2012 in Photographs

On this last day of 2012, I'm reflecting on all the beauty I've seen across the lovely states of New England and most especially, on a little island in Maine. Beauty found in the trees and ocean, in the skies and meadows and in the hearts of the people I know. 

To all my readers, I wish you a very wonderful last day of 2012. 

A Snowy Sunday in Somerville

Winter has arrived in all her glory. Last night snow descended on the city and left our streets and homes covered in white. Wrapped in layers (and yet, not enough of them), we walked to Davis Square by passing Powder House Square and Nathan Tufts Park. Before today, I didn't know that the Powder House located in the park was originally built in the first decade of the 18th century and that in 1774, British troops usurped a substantial amount of gunpowder that had been stored there. Naturally, this enraged local residents and led to what is known as the "Powder Alarm," something I didn't know about either. It's a wonderful thing to discover such history in one's midst! 

Later I found myself wandering through the Public Garden downtown, where many others similarly walked to take note of the wintry environs. The bronze statue of George Washington is a favorite of mine. I don't think it could be any more perfect. The last photograph was shot on Beacon Street, just before I turned onto Charles to lead me through Beacon Hill. From there, I made my way home, but not before I picked up the beloved Sunday NYT, now eagerly waiting for my perusal. 

A Reunion in Two Establishments

Continuing on the theme of dining in Davis Square, I visited two additional restaurants last night with some very old, dear friends. Our first stop was a long-awaited destination for me: Saloon. Opened by the same owners of Foundry (see previous post), Saloon is designed in the style of a New York prohibition-era speakeasy and it truly feels as if you've stepped back in time and left the Elm Street of the 21st-century far behind. My girlfriends and I went for drinks (they specialize in brown liquors) and indulged in a delicious house-made charcuterie plate. It is a place I will venture again and again, I am sure, whenever I want to walk into the world of Fitzgerald and Hemingway, with the sounds of Billie Holiday and Duke Ellington swirling in my head. 

For dinner, we skipped down the street to Posto, an Italian restaurant also located on Elm Street (seen in the last three photos). I found myself loving this space as well: its ultra-high ceilings along with its large windows and most especially, the menu. On their website, they describe themselves perfectly, as a "modern interpretation of a classic Italian pizzeria, enoteca and trattoria all presented in a 'farm chic' open air concept." Everything I tasted was quite good, from the Vermont Burrata antipasta (pickled beets, moscato poached pear, aged balsamic, extra virgin olive oil) to the Lasagnette brought forth in a cast-iron dish (maitake mushrooms, chard, lemon whipped ricotta, pomodoro, parmesan) to my entree of Kabocha Squash Ravioli  (sauteed spinach, chestnuts, lemon-brown butter, asiago, sage). 

There was another wonderful little discovery at Posto and that was the publication of Edible Boston, which I picked up while waiting for our table. Though I have yet to read it in its entirety, I was drawn to the cover of the most recent issue, which seems to encapsulate the winter months so well. Check it out if you have a chance! That's all for now 

A Harkness Christmas

For Christmas, we ventured south to the coast of Connecticut where my father lives. In between appetizers and the main course, we took a break to visit a place very dear to me, Harkness Memorial State Park. As you can see, it was very dreary sort of day yesterday, but the mansion and its grounds were still touched with a gothic sort of elegance. The Park is a popular destination for families in the spring and summertime and is often used for weddings. Countless hours have been spent exploring the grounds in the past and enjoying the sweeping views of the water. Whenever I visit my father, I try to visit Harkness as well. 

The mansion was originally built in 1906 and was named Eolia, which in Greek mythology was the home for the gods of wind. It was purchased by a Mr. Harkness a year later and served as a summer home for himself and his family until it was left to the state of Connecticut in 1950. The mansion contains 42 rooms and the estate 200 acres. Sounds like a wonderful summer home to me! There are tours held every weekend and I cannot recommend visiting enough...it truly is a special place. Yesterday we had it nearly to ourselves and it was like a Christmas gift to visit it again. 

Art in Cambridge

Rain kept me indoors yesterday, seeking Harvard's art collection for the very first time and subsequently enjoying a few delectable French macarons in a nearby cafe. For the past several years, the Fogg Museum and Busch-Reisinger Museum have undergone extensive renovations, which has left the Arthur M. Sackler Museum to showcase to visitors the best of Harvard's art holdings. Thus, the Sackler now contains a mixture of Modern, Contemporary, Ancient, Asian & Islamic and later Indian Art across three floors. I particularly enjoyed the Austrian Secession and German Expressionism art, which I became so familiar with during my time in Berlin. There were, of course, a lot of "fan favorites"-works by such giants as Picasso, Cézanne, Pollock, Monet, etc that would capture the attention of any visitor. I also found the Asian art beautifully curated and will most likely return to study it further. Though I am certainly glad I went yesterday, I will be very eager to see the newly instated Fogg and Busch-Reisinger Museums, because I would like to see the full extent of their collections. 

The rain was still heavily pouring when I left the Sackler. Fighting the wind and the downpour, I found my way to Crema Cafe on Brattle Street, where I indulged in a small chai and two Chocolate Chili macarons. 

By the time I finished, the sky opened to sunshine once again. 

My new job doesn't begin until the New Year, so I am left to make the most of my remaining mini-vacation. Lots of places to go and things to see! 

Ps. The flying angels (18thcent.) by an unidentified artist are for you mom! :) 

Granary Burying Ground

Many times I have walked past the Granary Burying Ground, but only twice have I took true notice of its gravestones. The first was nearly a year and a half ago, when my mother and I spent a weekend in Boston exploring the Freedom Trail, which this cemetery is on. Today was the second time I lingered within its confines, taking note of its inhabitants and reflecting on the mark many of them left in our society. 

The Burying Ground is home to many names Americans know best: Paul Revere, Samuel Adams, John Hancock, among many others. They are the names vested in American folklore and they all rest here, in this relatively small plot of land sandwiched in between tall, shamelessly modern office buildings. My first response is that the land surrounding the burial ground should have been better preserved, but now it seems almost refreshing to me-this little enclave of revolutionary spirits (and some Tory spirits as well) dwelling here while modernity continues to rise around its center. However, the informational posts within the burying ground informed me that it had always been a somewhat congested area, so perhaps there was no real opportunity, or desire even, to make the area a larger memorial.  Home to 2,345 gravestones and 204 tombs, the Granary Burying Ground is not Boston's oldest graveyard, but it certainly seems as if it is the city's most beloved.  

Through sites like this, Boston has rekindled my love for colonial history. I am re-watching the HBO mini series of "John Adams" for the first time and the hope is that I can soon visit Quincy. I have also begun reading First Family: Abigail and John Adams by the historian Joseph J. Ellis and almost every page is filled with lovely bits of their correspondence. 

I think I'll go read some of it now. 

A Library Like a Palace

As a lover of literature, I have a special affinity for libraries as public spaces and centers of knowledge. They are my temples.  Boston Public Library was one of the first places I wanted to visit once I arrived in the area. Founded in 1848, it was apparently the first library to lend books and also the first library to have a branch. I had no idea borrowing privileges were such a late development-it was my impression that the borrowing of books was a much older, defining feature of libraries. Clearly, my sense of library history needs to be refined. From the exterior, the Boston Public Libary is grand and imposing and is situated directly across from Copley Square.

I arrived during the mid-afternoon hours and was first awed by the splendor of the Entrance Hall, where the ceiling is covered with the names of famous Bostonians. The entrance hall leads directly to the Main Staircase, which looks out of a dream. There are actually two marble lions, not merely one as in my picture. I was told that they serve as Civil War memorials. From that same picture, you can see what is known as the Puvis de Chavannes Gallery and the murals that decorate the second floor hall. The gallery is named for the French artist of these ethereal creations. Most appropriately, the murals showcase the nine muses. Following the line of those muses led me to the Abbey Room, filled with the mural paintings called The Quest of the Holy Grail created by the American artist Edwin Austin Abbey, which were installed in 1895. 

I found myself wandering into the Elliot Room, a decidedly plainer room with bookcases lined along its walls. From the Elliot Room, I entered the magnificent Bates Hall,  filled with dozens upon dozens of happy readers and researchers. I felt a tad guilty interrupting their study with the click of my shutter,  but I couldn't resist. Can you imagine any better reading room? It was absolutely divine.The last place I visited was the Courtyard, a truly delightful urban oasis. I see myself seeking its tranquility in the next several months, in the same way I used to linger in the courtyards at the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C.

I'm not quite sure why I have never visited the library before, but now that I have I believe it will be a staple of my Bostonian existence. It will assuredly be on my list of places to take friends who are visiting, a list that I imagine will continue to grow in the upcoming months.  



Finding Christmas Atop Beacon Hill

In all the years I've visited Boston, I never once traipsed along the cobbled streets of Beacon Hill. Having explored it's remarkable historic charm today, it seems very strange to me that I always missed it. For it is precisely the type of neighborhood I love the most-

a maze atop a hill filled with tiny lanes that squeeze in between large, elegant townhouses, houses that bear the mark of the previous century and the one before that, where the very streets lined with gas lamps and wrought-iron fences harken back to a different age.

 After I took a tour of the Harrison Gray Otis House located on Cambridge Street, the kind docent provided me with valuable directions to lead me through the neighborhood, though I quickly found myself meandering on my own path. Measuring only a half-mile square, it is a very small but mesmerizing oasis from the rest of the urban city life. Though of course it is distinctively American, Beacon Hill reminded me of taking tours through quiet, confident European villages or neighborhoods, places that have the support of long history on their side as well as sophisticated design. One can escape within its enchantment and December is a perfect time of the year to do so, as you may have noticed from the photographs I took.