August Break 2018: happiness is…

Happiness is: dahlias in the morning light (courtesy of my beloved florist, of course). And settling in for a morning at Darwin’s, my very favorite place.

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August Break 2016: breathe

Back to reality today (and stacks of emails), but I stole a moment this morning to sit outside Darwin’s with my chai. Ahhhh.

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Saving my life this spring.

Every once in a while, I find it helpful to make a list of what is saving my life – from the small daily things to the big, soul-affirming stuff. As we make our way through April, here’s what’s saving my life these days:

• Daily chitchat with the folks at Darwin’s, who provide spicy chai, delicious lunches and cookies, and excellent conversation about everything from pickles to music to childhood memories.
• Tulips from my local florist, perched on the corner of my dining-room table. (Also, daffodils on my friend Amy’s table, above.)
• Poetry from Veronica Patterson and Naomi Shihab Nye.
• Running into people I know in Harvard Square and realizing all over again: this is my neighborhood.
• The Sunday #FlowerReport on Twitter, hosted by my friend Alyssa. (Photos of gorgeous spring flowers from all over the place.)

• Sarcastic asides from my co-workers. (Sometimes a little snark can save the day.)
• Weekly phone calls with my mom, and reports on my three-year-old nephew’s T-ball games.
• Frosted lemon cookies, flaky Scottish scones and whatever else I feel like baking.
• Good books. (Recent favorites include Stir, The Enchanted April and Under a Painted Sky.)
• Budding trees and blooming flowers – many of which I photograph for the #FlowerReport.

• The views from my sixth-floor office in Harvard Square.
• Striped dresses and black leggings with my favorite green coat. Rinse and repeat. (See also: not overthinking it.)
• A couple of blue-sky, open-window days.
• Eating my lunch outside, when I can, preferably on the south porch of Mem Church.
• Several much-needed catch-up sessions with friends: book club, lunch dates, cups of tea.
• The dim glow of the over-the-stove light in my kitchen, which makes it look so cozy late at night.
• Holding hands with my husband before we fall asleep.
• Texts from my sister and a couple of dear friends.

What’s saving your life these days? I’d really like to know.

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Becoming a Regular

10 a.m.: One medium chai latte, to go.

12:30 p.m.: Half a Longfellow sandwich (ham, cheddar, lettuce, tomato, sliced Granny Smith apples and spicy Dijon mustard) on sourdough. With salt and vinegar chips in a bright turquoise bag, if they’re available.

3:30 p.m.: One chocolate-dipped butter cookie, shaped like a heart, shamrock, Easter egg or autumn leaf, as the season dictates.

These are my usual orders at Darwin’s, the cafe down the street from my office. Sometimes the particulars vary a bit: I’ll add a buttery scone to my morning order, or splurge on a chocolate-glazed peanut butter cookie in the afternoon. If I’m feeling healthy I’ll swap the chips at lunch for a fruit salad, and on frigid days, I’ll often order a bowl of the daily soup, with a hunk of baguette for dipping.

I’ve worked in the same neighborhood for three years, and been an occasional visitor to Darwin’s for most of that time. But over the last year, I’ve become a regular. And it has brought me more pleasure than I could have dreamed.

I’m over at Art House America today waxing rhapsodic about my love for Darwin’s, and what it means to be a regular. Please join me over there to read the rest of my essay.

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Privacy in public

For one reason and another, I have spent a lot of time working in libraries and coffee shops over the last few months. (If you follow me on Instagram, you’ve probably seen my copious photos of the chai lattes at Darwin’s.)

I love both settings, for different moods and often different kinds of work. But it occurred to me recently that both places offer a way to strike a balance between privacy and being in public.

In a library, it is of course generally expected that you won’t – or don’t have to – talk to anyone. Though many libraries now offer group study spaces, you can also settle in quite comfortably with your laptop at a table or in a deep armchair.

I spent an hour in Lamont Library (at Harvard) one recent afternoon with about fifteen other people – all of us tucked up in different corners of the Farnsworth Room, typing contentedly away at our computers or scribbling in notebooks. We weren’t oblivious of each other’s presence, but we didn’t have to acknowledge it, either.

The collective presence in the room formed a kind of reassuring cushion for me. Introvert that I am, I still like to know that there are other people out there in the world (or right next to me), working on their own projects, doing their thing. I like knowing I’m part of that collective, without having to talk to anyone.

In a coffee shop, the boundaries are more porous. There’s food and drink, for one thing, and generally also music. (The music at Darwin’s ranges delightfully and eclectically from classic rock to indie folk to the occasional country song.) I’ve learned the names of a couple of baristas, and I know most of the other ones by sight – and I’m sure I surprise no one, any more, when I order a medium chai latte.

At Darwin’s, you still don’t have to talk to anyone – but the general volume is a little louder, the vibe chummier. People do sometimes ask if they can share tables, borrow a chair, or make use of a power strip or outlet. I know a few of the other regulars by sight, and occasionally I bump into a friend or colleague. I listen with pleasure to the baristas’ banter as they sling drinks behind the counter or bring new supplies up from the basement. (It reminds me of my days as a barista at the Ground Floor, long ago.)

Here, too, the background noise forms a sort of comforting baseline: the small noises of footsteps and chatter, the whirr and hum of the espresso machine, blend into a pleasing buzz. I can (usually) detach my brain from following individual noises, letting it rest in the general hum, as I jot down notes (or a to-do list) or type away on my computer. Around me, there’s usually a mix of fellow workers on their laptops, elderly men perusing the newspaper, the guy who brings in his pastels to sketch, and chattering pairs of friends.

I love my solitude, however I can get it: a solo lunch in Harvard Yard, a quiet evening at home alone, even disappearing into a book on a crowded subway train. But I also love this contradictory mix of privacy in public. I like being part of the rhythm of a place, even if – sometimes especially if – my thoughts and words can remain all my own.

Do you like hanging in out libraries and coffee shops?

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Weekend in Nashville

In mid-February, the hubs and I hopped a plane to Nashville, in an attempt to escape the frozen winter weather that (still) has Boston locked in its icy grip. We must have taken it with us, because we had two nights of near-record lows and a wicked ice storm that delayed our flight home by a day. (The same thing happened to us in West Texas over New Year’s.)

We still had a great time, though – a weekend full of books, friends and good food. Three of my favorite things.

My college roommate Bethany (above) lives in Nashville, and she and her husband, Chad, welcomed us with open arms. So did their German shepherd puppy, Luna. She’s adorable – all long legs and jackrabbit ears.

Upon arrival, we headed straight to Pharmacy Burger in East Nashville, for delicious burgers and sweet potato fries. We then drove to a place I’ve been wanting to see since it opened: Parnassus Books.

Two friendly shop dogs, a kids’ section with glowing stars hanging from the ceiling, quirky greeting cards, friendly booksellers, and shelves and shelves of books. It was everything I dreamed. (I bought a lovely novel, Etta and Otto and Russell and James.)

Since I frequently bemoan the lack of good Mexican food in Boston, it was a treat to have dinner that night at Las Maracas. Enchiladas smothered in spicy salsa verde, plus delicious chips and salsa. Yes, please.

The next day, we headed to Tenn Sixteen for brunch – chicken and waffles. I’ve been skeptical about the combination, but these were delicious.

After brunch, Bethany and I headed to Edgehill Cafe for tea with the lovely Leigh Kramer.

Leigh and I have been Internet friends for a few years, and we’ve been talking about meeting up for ages. The three of us sipped tea and chatted happily for more than two hours. I only wish we’d had more time together.

Bethany and I caught up with the guys later at the Opryland Hotel. It’s a gorgeous building – but what really captured my attention was the (indoor) landscaping.

Green plants! Ferns! Orchids! In the middle of winter! (I may be a tiny bit traumatized by all the snow and ice we’ve had in New England.)

For a Valentine’s Day double date that evening, we had crepes at the Red Bicycle in Madison. We were the only customers, and as we were finishing our savory crepes, the cooks brought out this creation:

Strawberries, chocolate and whipped cream. With hearts. Adorable. (And delicious.)

The next morning, after church and a lunch of Thai food, we headed to Barista Parlor (possibly the most hipster place I’ve ever set foot in).

Bethany had a gourmet hot chocolate flight:

And the guys amused themselves making hipster faces:

The highlight of the afternoon was seeing our friends Lawson and Lindsey, who drove over to meet us on super-short notice.

Lawson is an old friend from college days. We hadn’t seen each other in several years, but we slipped right back into easy conversation. It was the first time we’d met Lindsey (though we have lots of mutual friends), and she is lovely.

The freezing rain started on Sunday night, so we spent the rest of our trip hanging out at Bethany and Chad’s house. Eating pizza and pancakes and drinking lots of tea. Playing card games and guitar. Watching movies and playing with Luna. And, of course, talking to our hearts’ content.

Bethany and I used to share not only a house, but so much of our lives: friends and a church, a college and a workplace, in a way that’s not possible now. We have built our own lives in different cities, but I miss having her close by. So it was wonderful to step into her world for a few days. We were long overdue for some concentrated time together. And it was lovely.

Nashville, you’re all right. We’ll definitely be back.

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Goldilocks and the Coffee Shops

Like so many writers, travelers and lovers of city culture, I’m always on the hunt for the perfect coffee shop. (I know. I’m a walking cliche. But, in this case, a happily caffeinated one.)

There exists in my head a mirage of that perfect cafe – which bears a striking resemblance to the Ground Floor, the coffeehouse where I worked in college). The Ground Floor was my cafe, the first one I ever fell in love with and the only one I’ve worked in, so in some ways, since I left Midland (and since it closed), I’ve been searching for its counterpart everywhere else.

(Enjoying a peppermint hot cocoa, at Francesca’s in Boston’s South End)

My list of criteria for a perfect cafe is exacting, and includes:

• mellow-with-a-touch-of-funky atmosphere
• large selection of good-quality teas
• delicious chai and hot chocolate (much as I love the coffeehouse culture, I’m not a coffee drinker)
• yummy pastries, sandwiches and soups
• cozy corners to write in (tables, couches or armchairs)
• big windows with beautiful light (and a nice view)
• the perfect balance between bustling and calm
• friendly baristas
• an easily accessible location

Recently, I’ve found myself whining, like Goldilocks, about the flaws of my favorite cafes in Boston. Thinking Cup has the perfect atmosphere and delicious sandwiches, but a sadly limited tea selection. Boston Common Coffee House serves a favorite tea brand, but has a depressing view (of scaffolding, currently, though it’s not their fault). Starbucks on Charles St. has lovely views, yummy chai and cozy little tables, but it’s Starbucks, which always makes me feel like I’m betraying my inner indie girl.

Farther afield, Athan’s has the best chocolate croissants, but their sandwiches are so-so. Francesca’s in the South End has wonderful drinks and lovely light, but I’m hardly ever in that area. (Ditto for Tealuxe and Crema in Harvard Square – though I ate dinner at Crema the other night.)

(Tomato soup, fresh foccaccia and iced rooibos tea at Crema)

And then I realized how ridiculous – how first-world-privileged and spoiled – I sounded, even to myself. Like Goldilocks, I have my choice of places to curl up (though I have it better than she did, because I get to drink tea and write and people-watch). And, though none of my cafes may be “perfect,” all of them – on certain days and in certain ways – are just right.

Ever find yourself complaining about something that’s actually a boon – or is it just me?

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