Massachusetts: Emerald Summer

Summer is an odd time for me. Many people my age probably associate the season with halcyon days of slow afternoons, beach outings, backyard barbeques, and family vacations. I grew up with relatively fewer memories of those things, and have always preferred the ephemeral transitions of fall and spring, the crystalline clarity of deep, dark winter. But as of late, summers have taken on a certain rhythm that I cannot quite say I enjoy (too strong a word), but I can certainly appreciate. I think part of it has to do with how my professional role has become tied up with the academic calendar, the coming and going of bright futures and talented minds each June and July. Another part of it is certainly Jordan, who enters his second summer with all the pizzazz of a bona fide toddler. In a few short months, he’s become quite confident on his feet, and he’s very recently hit a language explosion, such that we can no longer keep count of how many words he rattles off at us in both Mandarin and English. In his little velcro shoes and diaper-hugging shorts, Jordan has become a frequenter of our local parks and splash pads (we rotate between three of them within a few blocks of home), and Jane and he go on long walks and bike rides in the evening after dinner, often when I’m too physically or mentally exhausted to leave the couch. His personality is tracking with much of what I wrote about him a year ago —Jordan is funny, bold, sweet, and generous. He’s also a bit moody, demanding, and insecure; I can’t possibly imagine where he got it from. One thing’s for sure - it’s been a joy to actually talk with him. He understands much of what we say in daily life, follows basic commands, and in return can be quite persuasive when lobbying for things - to call his grandparents every day (阿公! 阿媽!), to have more of a snack (還要!) or his milk cup (奶奶!), to watch his first, favorite, and only movie thus far, Studio Ghibli’s My Neighbor Totoro (“還要 To-to-weh-wee baby… OK!”). My favorite moments, though, are when I have to teach him something: how not to hit, or throw. How to ask nicely, and be patient. How to persevere when there’s a toy or puzzle he can’t quite figure out. How to manage big feelings. I’m certainly looking forward to helping him grow into the future.

For my part, since creating a life plan (bucket list?) last year, things have been dynamic both personally and professionally. In the past few months, I’ve taken leadership courses and focused professionally on initiatives that I care deeply about. I took a step toward a lifelong dream (formal naturalist training) by signing up for a night-and-weekend fieldwork ecology course this fall through the Massachusetts Audubon Society. I’ve planned a slew of new photography trips for the upcoming year, which will see me visiting and exploring more long-desired destinations. And, notwithstanding more upper respiratory infections than I’ve ever had in my life thanks to Jordan and his daycare buddies (10 separate illnesses we’ve suffered since January!), I’ve gotten into better shape than I have been in awhile. As I gear up for a half-marathon in the fall (my first distance race since the pandemic), I’ve been spending lots of time traversing the paths between our home and the upper reaches of Boston’s Emerald Necklace - Leverett and Jamaica Ponds, Larz Anderson Park, and Arnold Arboretum. Between training and Jordan’s still-too-early awakenings, I’ve somehow become a morning person for the first time in my life - up before 6 AM at least a few times a week to beat the heat and circle the pondside at dawn. The extra time-on-feet has given me a renewed appreciation for our surroundings here in the city, and a nascent sense of familiarity and place that have been sorely missed since we left the Mid-Atlantic behind four years ago. I find myself living a paradox which I am learning to gradually accept: part of me wants time to slow to a crawl, a freeze-frame of all the things I care about and love (“a still frame, with my heart at its center,” I think I wrote over three years ago). Another part of me wants to speed ahead, to see what lies around the corner, to see Jordan all grown up, and to look back on my life as a spacious and wild and reckless and beautiful thing. It’s never enough. It’s always too much. I’ve decided that whatever it is, it’s all okay.

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With Jordan essentially mobile and on a one-nap schedule, the long days of summer have provided us with opportunities to get out and explore the city and world around us. Things are much easier than last year, when it often felt like we only had an hour (tops) until his next feed or sleep. In addition to many trips made using our annual zoo and aquarium passes, we’ve taken various outings for exploration and photography:

June 23, 2024: A foggy morning visiting Jane’s old volunteer joint at the New England Aquarium, and Jordan’s first time seeing the duck tour buses in front of Boston Harbor. On the way home, Jordan falls asleep on the T with a security tater tot (from Dunkin’s) clutched in his hand.

June 30, 2024: A short walk along Olmsted Park and around Jamaica Pond with Jordan in the backpack, looking for Totoro’s tree and admiring the swan family at Ward’s Pond, followed by a grocery run in Coolidge Corner.

July 4, 2024: A morning photoshoot in Larz Anderson Park, reprising our shoot from last August. The formerly ground-bound baby Jordan is now a toddler waddling about the grass, picking up tree branches, and refusing to sit still for portraits. We end the morning grabbing lunch and drinks at H-Mart and the recently opened KyoMatcha on Beacon Street.

July 6, 2024: A short walk to the Longwood Mall, with its stately European Beech trees fully leafed out. Jordan is quite interested to check if Totoro lives in any of the big trees. There is a fantastic breeze as I take portraits of him and Jane sitting together on a picnic blanket.

July 20, 2024: A morning trip out of town, to the Drumlin Farm Wildlife Sanctuary in Lincoln MA. Jordan comes face-to-face with his first (working) farm tractors, and we introduce him to sheep, goats, cows, piglets, chickens, an owl, and a pony before grabbing frozen treats at the gift shop.

August 4, 2024: On a tip from one of my former fellows, we drive through Wellesley and visit Broadmoor Wildlife Sanctuary in Natick, MA. Jordan enjoys a snack on the boardwalk, and lies down happily on a bench above a meadow overlook. On the way home, we stop at Charles River Coffee House for breakfast sandwiches, coffee, and juice, which we enjoy by the nearby dam on the Charles River.

August 11, 2024: A morning stroll beside Hammond Pond (Jordan wearing what I call his Space-Time Distortion shirt, because… well, his belly distorts the lines on the fabric) before buying and eating a picnic breakfast with Jordan at Wegman’s down the road.

August 17, 2024: An early morning walk along Kendrick Pond, in the Cutler Park Reservation in Needham. The morning mist provides lovely atmospheric conditions in the pine forest surrounding the pond, and wildflowers (orange jewelweed, evening primrose, soapwort, and purple loosestrife among others) add a splash of colour to the wetlands along the Charles River. In the afternoon, we take a trip into Downtown Boston; after showing Jordan the trains at South Station, we walk along Fan Pier Park before taking Jordan to Chinatown for dinner.








Boston: The Northern Lights

May 11th, 2024: 0100-0300 EST
Music:
“Le Cygne” - Camille Saint-Saëns

The first time I ever saw the aurora borealis, Jane and I were standing on a windswept peninsula outside of Reykjavik, sleepy and exhausted after a breakneck several days’ trip in Iceland, in March 2015. The second time I saw the aurora borealis… I rolled over in bed and looked outside on a Saturday night. In my bedroom. In May. In Massachusetts. I spent the next two hours watching the skies, testing shutter speeds, and eventually, carefully figuring out how to balance the legs of a tripod on my windowsill, my desk chair, and a soft mattress so that I could shoot a timelapse. Meanwhile, one of the strongest geomagnetic storms in living memory danced across the night sky over much of the North American continent. Truly a special, once-in-a-lifetime kind of event - well worth my sleepyhead appearance the following morning, and Jane’s disbelief when I showed her the evidentiary footage.

Boston: The Flowering City

After a rather long and dreary winter, spring finally comes to us here in the city, delayed but all the more welcome for it. To gear up for a distance race later this year, I’m hitting the pavement again after a few years of inconsistent fitness. On my regular jogs up and down the Muddy River, the tree-lined path is carpeted in violets and bluets, and a procession of flowering shrubs and trees greet the eye as the month continues: forsythia, pear, and crabapple; serviceberry, dogwood, and plum. It’s taken awhile for me to get to know my neighbourhood trees here in the suburbs, even though we are nearly at the four-year anniversary of our move up to Boston. Unlike our Baltimore era, which was marked by some stability (eight years as students/trainees, largely inhabiting one apartment and living one lifestyle), our time in Brookline has been one of rapid and accelerating change. One year emerging from the pandemic, another year as new homeowners, the next as new parents. It’s only now, in the fourth year, that we finally seem to have achieved something resembling a pattern, a lifeway. Jordan, meanwhile, is changing even more rapidly. Now walking independently and babbling more and more incessantly each day, our newly minted toddler is a joy to be around. He’s constantly smiling, giggling at almost everything we do around the house, off-tunedly singing the melody of “Baa Baa Black Sheep” before he goes down for his naps. Worse yet, he’s funny and he knows it. He knows just how to wobble, make a face, pretend to fall backward from the windowsill or into our arms, to make us laugh. He’s starting to become more demanding about his wishes and wants, starting to catch big feelings when we say no — but never for long, as we are usually able to get him to laugh about something else within a few minutes. Perhaps he’ll lose his sense of humour someday. Something tells me he never will.

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This month has been marked by a number of outings to enjoy the increasingly fine spring weather, and to photograph some of nature’s beauty just as I used to do in Maryland:

April 14, 2024: A mid-day outing to Crystal Lake in Newton, marking Jordan’s second time ever riding the T. We grab some desserts at Lakon Paris Patisserie in Newton Highlands (a tiramisu cup and a coconut/mango/passionfruit mousse), which we bring with us to a lakeside picnic table along with fruit, tater tots, fishsticks, and onigiri packed from home (ostensibly for Jordan’s lunch, but we wind up sharing everything). It’s a lovely spot for us to enjoy the weather and for Jordan to watch the passing Green Line trains - until rain starts to fall, that is.

April 27, 2024: Jane’s parents visit us for the weekend. On Saturday, we take a morning walk at the Arnold Arboretum, climbing up to Bussey Hill before circling the park and taking some photos with Jordan beneath a cherry tree in full bloom. In the afternoon after Jordan’s long nap, we go out to the library and a nearby park.

April 28, 2024: After heading to the Franklin Park Zoo with Jane’s parents, in the afternoon we take a local walk and play with Jordan at our nearby playground.