This past weekend Boston was a whole mood. I was in the city to photograph the incredible magnolia trees that bloom each year along the streets of the Back Bay. That happened to coincide with the Patriots’ Day long weekend, which is also the Monday of the Boston Marathon. It was like a holiday/special event turducken up in here.
For those unfamiliar, Patriots’ Day commemorates the first battles of the American Revolution that occurred in Lexington, Concord, and Arlington Massachusetts. The holiday was established in 1894. At the time the Lexington Historical Society petitioned the Massachusetts General Court to declare April 19 as “Lexington Day” in honor of the role the town played in jumpstarting the war. Concord heard what Lexington was up to and said “Nuh’uh!” countering with their own petition to make April 19 “Concord Day” (very original, Concord). The General Court put everyone in time out, took away their iPad privileges for a week, and said “We’re calling it Patriots’ Day and everyone gets one. This is why you can’t have nice things. Go wash up for dinner.”
Likewise, the Boston Marathon is a very special event. Established in 1897, it’s one of the world’s oldest marathons. I personally do not see the appeal of running a marathon because I’d rather test my endurance in other ways such as binging T.V. or traveling around Italy in search of the perfect pizza. Take my entry fee money, please.
People come from all over the world to both compete and spectate—upwards of 500,000 people jam themselves along the marathon route that runs through seven outlying towns to finish in downtown Boston. It’s a source of enormous pride for New England as well as for anyone who runs it. And this is even more pronounced since the 2013 bombing that took the lives of five people, injured more than 200 others, and resulted in a ruthless manhunt for the apprehension of the bombing suspects, which put all future terrorists on notice: Do not fuck with Boston.
The city was a hyperactive toddler this weekend, hopped up on birthday cake and its own inflated sense of entitlement. There were all kinds of marathon-related events happening: a 5K, BECAUSE THERE IS NOT ENOUGH RUNNING ALREADY; and Marathon Fan Fest that featured food and vendors and all sorts of entertainment. There was also something called “The Boston Marathon Golden Retriever Meetup” where goldens and their owners were invited to gather in honor and celebration of Spencer, a golden retriever who was a fixture on the marathon route for more than seven years. Dubbed the official dog of the Boston Marathon, Spencer lost his life to cancer in 2023 and if that doesn’t reduce you to a puddle of emotional ectoplasm than you might actually be a file cabinet. And if all of that weren’t enough it was also opening day for the iconic swan boats, the darling paddle boats that have been taking visitors around the lagoon in the Public Garden for over a century. Like I said: Boston was not phoning it in.
I would normally avoid this type of weekend. Crowds are not my thing. During the pandemic when everyone was all, “Uh-oh! No Burning Man!” I was all, “Ahhh. No Burning Man. All this peace and quiet. I bet this is how the dinosaurs felt.” But if I wanted to get my photograph on (which I did!), I simply couldn’t avoid being in the mele.
And it ended up being…kind of wonderful. It didn’t feel frantic and stressy and overwhelming, which is how busy-crowded places are to me. It felt like a laid back, rolling block party where everyone was happy to gather, to enjoy the simple thing of walking underneath a tree weighted with luxurious blooms or sitting on a bench with a coffee, watching people strolling and taking photos. Maybe it sounds corny, but I was really moved. I found myself welling up as I walked around, taking in such beauty, seeing all the different kinds of people experiencing the easy gladness of just being, and feeling more hopeful than I have in a long time.
Here is springtime in Boston through my lens. Enjoy!
Magnolia Row
The magnolia trees in the Back Bay were the inspired idea of Laura Dwight, a resident of the neighborhood in the 1960s. Her one-woman beautification project proliferated for decades resulting with gorgeous, towering, cotton candy colored pink and white blossoms lighting up the streets of the Back Bay every April.
#BostonStrong (and beautiful)
In the wake of the marathon bombings in 2013, Diane Valle decided to light the way back to the race’s joy and inspiration by planting 100,000 daffodils along the marathon route. Gardening organizations, volunteers, donors, and countless others joined with Valle to start a tradition now in its 11th year. Valle turned her tribute into a nonprofit, Marathon Daffodils, to make the sunny flower an official symbol of the marathon. Each year potted daffodils “sprout” in Boston businesses as well as around public art such as the sculptures along the Commonwealth Ave. Mall.
Saturday In the Park
The Swan Boats are one of Boston’s unofficial “signs” of the start of spring. They click along at about .00009 knots, run on pedal power (who needs a leg day at the gym?), but are still one of Boston’s sweet little rides.
"Maybe it sounds corny, but I was really moved. I found myself welling up as I walked around, taking in such beauty..." No, Sheila, not corny! Human! The very reason I have always traveled alone, is so I can burst into tears any time I want and nobody is embarrassed. There is so much beauty in our world - we lose track, we forget to open our eyes. Your glorious photos sure opened my eyes this morning. Thank you. That photo of the door framed by blossoms is breath taking.
Beautiful, and I love your lead-in narrative.
One of the great ironies of my love for photography is how much I enjoy taking pictures of scenes like this. Unfortunately, my allergies are so bad that, at the end, I look like a boxer who lost the heavyweight championship and a beloved parent on the same day.