A five-hour drive on Thursday night took us from Montreal right into the heart of where 200 and so years ago following a famous Tea Party the redcoats were seeing red.
We spent three lovely days in Boston plus one less lovely day in a windy NYC, and the reason I didn’t post about this sooner is because I didn’t get the chance to process the pictures we took.
You HAVE TO see the pictures! Because no matter how much I rave about how astounding the city looked during this spring weekend, it will not do it justice. Visual aid is required.
We didn’t see much of the actual city, just the centre, a bit of the Freedom Trail and Beacon Hill. We took it easy, slept in, and relaxed.
I wasn’t very impressed the first day there, truth be told. The North End seemed overly crowded, and not even the delicious biscotti we bought from a small Italian dessert store or the 99c pound of strawberries from the market could make me have a change of heart. It wasn’t until our trip to NYC on Sunday that we drove past the houses on Commonwealth Avenue. That’s when I wished I lived in that precise moment forever, trying to cram into my mind as many dreamy images as I could. To keep them stored away for winter days when I’m feeling sad and need something happy and warm to think about.
The magnolias were in full bloom. A weekend earlier and it would have been too soon, a few days later and the flowers would have died. Our timing was perfect! There was something about magnolia trees against the red bricks of the luxury XVIII century houses lining the street in the area. Something very movie-like and picture perfect.
To be continued…